Precipice
by wtfrenchtoast
Summary: When handsome and enigmatic cop Edward Cullen transfers to Forks PD, Bella Swan can't decide whether she wants to keep her distance or give in to the strongest attraction she's ever felt. AU/AH. Lemons…eventually.
1. FML

Summary: When handsome and mysterious cop Edward Cullen transfers to Forks PD, Bella Swan can't decide whether she wants to keep her distance or give in to the strongest attraction she's ever felt. AU/AH. Lemons…eventually.

Story Notes: Rated M for language, underage drinking and lemons. Just be patient.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight – no plagiarism is intended. Song in this chapter belongs to Mat Kearney.

* * *

Chapter 1. FML.

she got the call today

one out of the gray

and when the smoke cleared

it took her breath away

she said she didn't believe

it could happen to me

I guess we're all one phone call from our knees

I guess it all started when I decided to skip my very last Intro to 19th Century British Literature (or Brit Lit, as we affectionately termed it) class and surprise my boyfriend, Eric, who was cramming for his Organic Chemistry exam. We could use a study break, I figured. It was May, hot as hell for this time of year, and the entire UW campus had been holed up indoors while we tried to learn a semester's worth of material in four or five days. Ah, finals. My roommate told me that the word "finals" really stood for Fuck, I Never Actually Learned (this) Shit. It was funny in February. Now…not so much.

Well, I had been planning to surprise Eric, and surprise him I did. The unfortunate element of surprise is that the receiving party does not, in fact, know you are coming. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where the trouble began.

I stood awkwardly in the doorway to Eric's dorm room, which he repeatedly forgets to lock, holding two iced coffees and listening to Eric sputter about how "this wasn't it looks like." He hopped frantically around the messy room as he wiggled into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the floor. The bleach blonde wrapping herself in his navy bedsheet didn't even attempt to feed me some lame cover story; they were caught, and at least she knew it.

I vaguely recall emptying the contents of both Dunkin Donuts cold cups onto Eric's shirt and hightailing it out of there. The rest of the afternoon was spent hurling things out of my dorm room window and crying. My roommate, Angela, was a sweet, well-meaning girl who decided the only way to make me feel better was to get me rip-roaring drunk and to hook up with somebody else. It was worth a shot, I figured. That weekend was one long, staggering haze in which I may have had sex with my RA. I don't really remember, but he avoided me the entire last week of school. So much for freshman year.

I moved back home to Forks, Washington after my last final exam, where, as per the terms of my parents' custody agreement, I spent the fall, winter and spring with my dad, Charlie. Summers were with Renee, my mother, in Jacksonville, where she lived with her new husband. Now that I was nineteen, I wasn't bound to any custody restrictions, but I voluntarily stayed with Charlie during the shorter school breaks. I was definitely looking forward to a summer in Florida, though. Especially after my fiasco-grade end to the school year.

So the disappointment was extra bitter when my mom called the night before I was supposed to fly out. Her husband, Phil, owned a chain of restaurants that was opening several new locations across the country. He was going to have to be at each and every opening and manage the new staff so that they would be up to par with the existing locations. "Sweet," I'd exclaimed. "I definitely need a change of scenery." I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, throwing tank tops and shorts into my suitcase, but paused. What if we ended up somewhere like Alaska? I started to remove a few of the tank tops, just in case.

There was a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line. "Bella," my mom began hesitantly, and my heart sank. "Honey. It's…this isn't like a big vacation. Phil's going to be working nonstop to get each location ready and then run it for a couple of weeks until the staff gets the hang of it. I can't even guarantee how long we'll be in each place-"

"Okay," I interrupted, trying to sound unfazed. "So you and I can go do stuff while he's working. Sucks to be him, but it'll be awesome for us." I had a decent idea of where this conversation was going, but that didn't mean I had to open the door and lead it in.

"Bells. You know I'd love to do that with you. You do. And I would, I'd love to bring you along but…I'm going to be helping Phil. Be his assistant, help set things up…I'm sorry, honey."

The striped tank top in my fingers fell to the wood floor soundlessly. Was it unlike my mom to cancel plans at the last minute? Hardly. And grudgingly, I could maybe see her point. Days stuck in a hotel room or wandering a foreign city by myself? Not all that appealing. But an entire summer spent in Forks…I'd rather wander solo through a field of land mines. Forks, in my opinion, should rank in the top ten Most Uninhabitable Places in the Continental U.S., right behind Death Valley, and anywhere it is acceptable to eat roadkill. If it wasn't bad enough that it rained, snowed, hailed or otherwise precipitated in some miserable way nearly every day, the place was completely devoid of activity. A few shops, a diner, and the elementary and junior-senior high school were the only non-residential buildings in town. I guess some people would call small towns like this charming, but to me it was only suffocating and painfully, excruciatingly boring.

After a few more halfhearted words, I disconnected with my mom. The solid feeling of dread at the prospect of a long and tedious summer in Forks hung over me like a heavy veil. At the same time, it sort of dawned on me that while I wasn't expecting her to cancel, I really wasn't all that surprised. Renee had a bad track record of breaking her word – mostly due to absentmindedness and a tendency to plan before she was sure what was going on. But, like any glutton for disappointment, I continued to hold out hope every time that she would follow through.

With a sigh I regarded my nearly full suitcase. Two hours of careful and thoughtful packing, down the drain. Good thing I hadn't bought anything new for the trip. I heaved open the bottom drawer of my dresser and began replacing my shorts and capris back into their rightful places.

A brisk knock on my bedroom door interrupted my reluctant task. "Bells?" my father called gruffly through the door.

"Come in," I said loudly over my shoulder.

He entered the room hesitantly and I abandoned my unpacking, perching myself on the corner of my bed. "I, uh, just got off the phone with your mom." I said nothing in response, and at this his shoulders dropped in resignation. "I'm sorry. You know how she is." Charlie was, to say the very least, a man of few words. More like a man of a couple grunts and a head nod.

I shrugged, trying to seem noncommittal. My disappointment had absolutely nothing to do with Charlie and everything to do with Death by Boredom aka Forks. And I was fairly sure that he knew that. But I still didn't want to rub in his face how bummed I was that I'd be stuck here. "Yeah. Well, whatever. It's fine."

"No, it's not," he answered firmly as he took a seat next to me on my bed. Taken aback, I stared at him while he fidgeted with the cuff of his flannel shirt. "This isn't the first time she's made you a promise and broken it, and that's not _fine._" I was a little stunned at the trace of venom I heard in his normally calm and relaxed voice.

"Well technically she never promised-" I started.

"She's your mother, Bella," he interrupted. "Everything she says should be a promise, doesn't matter what it is. She has a responsibility to you and she's brushed it off more times than I'm willing to forgive." He let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, I don't like talking about her this way but this really got under my skin."

I was touched by how protective of me Charlie was, and how he understood a lot more than I usually gave him credit for. We'd grown apart more and more as I got older – Charlie meshed with adolescent girls like oil and water – and it wasn't hard to feel like complete strangers at times.

A long, silent moment stretched by in which we were both lost in our own thoughts. Then Charlie abruptly got up from my bed and glanced around. Looks like our moment was over. "I got to be at the station in forty-five minutes. Save me some leftovers?"

I smiled. "Of course. Lasagna okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

And with that he was down the hallway, getting ready for work. Charlie was Forks' police chief, and since the department was literally one of the smallest in the state, he still had to work wacky hours.

I finished replacing all of my clothes from the suitcase into my dresser and closet, and decided to venture out to Forks' only grocery store to pick up fixings for dinner. I usually prepared enough for Charlie to have leftovers for a few days in case I wasn't home.

The shopping trip was fast, and it was only a few minutes before I stood in the checkout line, watching my items be scanned and bagged by a bored-looking girl with dyed black hair and plugs in her ears. Not the kind that kept out noise, either. I stared, I couldn't help it. I could barely pluck my eyebrows without getting teary.

The heat outside was stifling – once I had left the chill of the air conditioner inside the Safeway it was even more intense. I was sweating immediately. After I had unceremoniously dumped my bag of groceries onto my passenger's seat, I hastily rolled both windows down and let the oven inside air itself out. Once I was satisfied that it wasn't going to broil me alive I climbed inside and began the short drive home.

As I rolled down the main drag of Forks, passing the library, the diner, and a small odds and ends shop, the prospect of a long summer really sank in. Months and months (well, three and a half, to be exact) of time stretching before me like an empty road. I had no idea how I was going to fill the days. I had a feeling Charlie would nudge me into getting a job, and with that I had absolutely no qualms, but in Forks my options were limited to bagging groceries at the Safeway or hostessing at the diner. Neither of which appealed to me in the least. I'd suck it up and take one of those jobs if I had to, but I was definitely going to check in Port Angeles first. Even if it was forty minutes away.

I was so far into my thoughts that I didn't notice the flashing blue and red lights that had come up behind me. Startled, I jerkily reached for my turn signal and eased my ancient truck onto the narrow shoulder.

I was sure that the cruiser would sail past me on its way to whatever crisis lay ahead. Probably Deanna Carter trying to throw her boozed-up husband out of the house again this week. Or someone spray-painted over the "C" on the Canal Park sign. Instead, the cruiser settled behind me and slightly to the left, as was customary. I noticed now that the car was white, not blue like my father's, indicating that this was a Clallam County officer. I frowned. Usually county stayed out of the towns that had their own police forces, choosing to patrol the areas where they were more needed.

I was nervous. I had never, not once, been stopped in Forks before. Since I'd known every officer in the department since I was little, and my truck was about as inconspicuous as the Batmobile, I had never been given any trouble. It wasn't like I was some reckless off-the-wall driver, either.

With apprehension building in my stomach, I watched the officer approach my driver's side. He wore the trademark aviators that seemed to come standard issue with the uniform, which was dark blue like Charlie's. Short but messy brown hair stuck in little wild tufts from his head.

He came to a stop at my open window. "License and registration, please," he requested flatly. I scrambled to get my wallet out of my purse and then dug through my glove compartment for my registration. Once I located them I handed them to the officer, who had barely moved a muscle the entire time. He studied them for a moment, glancing down between my heinous license picture and back up at me, and without another word stalked back to his car. Leaving me to sit, perplexed, in my truck that was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

As the minutes ticked by, I began to fidget. I had no idea why I'd been pulled over. I hadn't been talking on the phone, or speeding…I think. Even though my dad would probably be able to throw out whatever ticket I got, if I got one, it still made me nervous.

My eyes ticked over to the badge-shaped sticker above my registration and inspection stickers. It was from Charlie, and it had the Town of Forks Police Department insignia on it. A nice, unobtrusive way of alerting any officer (or vandal, for that matter) that the owner of the vehicle was a family member of a cop, and not to give him or her a hard time. Which I hope this guy had noticed.

Finally the officer returned to my window. He'd removed his aviators, letting me get a good look at his face…which, as it was, gorgeous with a capital G. Striking green eyes, strong jaw and cheekbones, aquiline nose. I was momentarily frozen, aware only that I was sitting less than a foot away from possibly the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, Miss Swan?" My heart jumped as he said my name. His voice was low, but velvety, and he could have been telling me I was going to jail for the rest of my life and I would have gone willingly.

My mouth went dry. "Uh, I have no idea," I stammered.

"Well, for starters, you're not wearing a seat belt." I glanced down and winced. I wasn't. Charlie would shoot me dead if he found out; it was one of his biggest pet peeves. "You also ran that stop sign back there, at the corner of Greene and Hartwood. And, on top of all that, your registration is expired."

Dismay cut through my haze of lusty thoughts. What? I scanned my eyes over my registration. Four-twenty-ten. April of 2010. Wasn't it still…oh, shit. It should have been renewed last month. Dammit.

"I-I didn't even see that sign," I began lamely. Like he's never heard that one before, I chastised myself mentally. "I was thinking about, um, dinner, and I totally missed-"

"Right," he interrupted, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Well, here you go. Have a nice day." He thrust three sheets of paper into my hand. "Court's in three weeks." With that he turned on his heel, heading back towards his cruiser.

My blood began to boil as I read them all quickly. Three tickets? _Three tickets!_ Are you serious? "Wait!" I called out desperately at his retreating back. I threw open my driver's side door and jogged after him.

He whirled around, eyes blazing. "Ma'am! Why did you get out of your vehicle? You need to go back to your car!" he barked. His right hand shot back to rest on the butt of his gun. I was aghast. Did he really think I was going to try to attack him? Me, a nineteen-year-old college student? He had to be at least sixty pounds heavier and a good eight inches taller.

Disgusted, I shook the tickets at him. "Are you kidding me? Three? This is insane! You can have these right back, buddy, because my dad's just gonna shred them anyway!"

"Your dad?" he spat back skeptically. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

I ignored the last part and continued shaking the tickets at him. "Charlie Swan! The chief of police of Forks! Hello? Charlie Swan, Bella Swan?" No recognition on his face. I fumed as my face grew redder and redder. And what was really ironic was that even though I wanted to punch him in the balls at that moment, I still found myself admiring the square of his shoulders, the intense blaze of his green eyes. The push and pull of emotions was maddening.

People began to cluster some distance away, watching the police chief's daughter freak out at another cop. Oh, small town gossip. I'd probably be getting a call from Charlie before I even made it home.

"Well, Miss Swan, if you're done harassing me," he bit off smugly, "then I suggest you bring your citations to your father and let him take care of them. I'm just doing my job." He gave me the fakest, smarmiest smile ever and smoothly got into his car. "Drive safely," he called out of his window as he pulled back out into traffic.

I stood on the shoulder as I watched him drive away. Horrified, I realized I was still clutching the tickets in some rigor mortis death grip, and in a burst of fury crumpled them into a little ball. I stomped back to my truck, started the engine, and swung wildly back onto the road, causing more than a few horns to honk and middle fingers to appear. I didn't care. I was going to get this figured out and show that arrogant son of a bitch what was up. No matter how panty-dropping hot he was.

I pulled into the police station in record time. Furiously I jumped from the truck, forgetting all about the lasagna ingredients that were probably going to spoil in the wretched heat. I stormed into the station and yelled, "Dad? Charlie? Where are you?"

Allyson, the receptionist, snapped her head up. "Bella?" she said incredulously. "What the hell are you doing, coming in here and hollering like that? What's the matter?"

I suddenly realized that every soul in the building was staring at me like I sprouted a second head. I swallowed sheepishly and approached the front desk with my head hung slightly. "Sorry, Allyson," I said quietly.

"Well, Jesus, Bells, you just about gave me a heart attack. And that's not such a good idea, 'specially right now." As she turned to toss a piece of paper into the trash I noticed her swollen, massive belly. Good God, any day now she was going to pop like a bad grape. I felt like such a tool. "I'll find your dad, okay?" she said matter-of-factly. "So you can just sit down and calm yourself for a minute, young lady." She waddled away into another room.

I slumped into one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs and yanked the crumpled paper ball from my pocket. Try as I did, the image of that rude, cocky officer stuck in my mind. And not because he was Abercrombie-model hot. At least…not entirely. I just couldn't believe he could be such a dick. None of the cops in Forks were like that. My dad was never, ever like that. He always believed that a badge wasn't a license to be unnecessarily abrasive to someone. But this guy…he was a piece of work. He was the reason people called cops pigs.

"Bella?"

"Dad!" I jumped out of my chair and un-crumpled the wad of paper in my hand.

"God, Bella, are you okay? Allyson said you came in here like somebody was after you. What happened?" He grabbed my shoulders for emphasis.

I thrust the mangled tickets at him, which he accepted with confusion. Everything came rushing out of me then. "There was this guy from county – a cop – and he was such an a-hole!" I ranted. "He said I…well, I might've forgotten there was a stop sign at Greene and Hartwood but I totally didn't think about the registration 'cause of finals and everything, but can you, you know, take care of them for me?" I was out of breath when I was finished.

Charlie eyed me carefully as he read the tickets. "Expired registration, failure to obey a traffic device, failure to utilize safety restraint…" he murmured to himself. His eyes darkened. "Bella, you weren't not wearing your seat belt, right?" The warning in his voice made my blood run cold.

"Um," I began in a small voice. "It-it was only for like a mile-"

He scowled. "Isabella Swan."

Frustrated, I threw my hands up in the air. "Yes! Dad! I know! It was bad! I was bad! I'll never do it again! Now can you get rid of those for me? Please?" I was prepared to beg if I had to.

Charlie pondered me for a moment. With a short sigh he handed them back to me. "Even if I wanted to, which I do and I don't, there's nothing I can do about these, honey. They're issued from a county officer. If it had been somebody in town or even one of these little towns around here I could do something. But they're reporting back to the county government, Bells. I can't just tear these up – especially since they've already been submitted." His shoulders dropped a little. "I'm sorry."

Everything sort of came crashing down on me then. Eric, my canceled summer with my mom, and now this. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I wiped them away angrily. Charlie glanced away uncomfortably – tears, like menstrual cycles and makeup, were like kryptonite for a guy like him. I took a deep, cleansing breath to calm myself. "It's okay," I said, trying to force some conviction into my shaky voice. "I'll see you at home."

He nodded grimly. I gave him an awkward hug and left the station, tail between my legs. Great fucking way to start a great fucking summer.

The next night Charlie was home for dinner, and I made him the lasagna that I had promised the previous night. We ate mostly in silence, and when I heard the clank of Charlie's fork hitting the empty plate I rose to clear it. He placed a hand on mine to stop me. "Sit down, Bella. We need to talk."

Apprehensively I sat back down. "Okay," I replied slowly. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," he answered, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I didn't really plan on you being here this summer." He caught my confused frown and quickly backtracked. "What I mean is, that doesn't mean I'm not happy about it. I am. I think your mom's always made out better in the custody setup but that's water under the bridge. Uh, anyway, what did you have in mind for the summer?"

"Like what? I might go spend a weekend at the Webbers' or something, but I don't know."

"Well, that's fine. I meant, you know, something to keep you occupied all summer. Wouldn't be a bad idea if you got a job."

A job. Of course. But…in Forks? My mind flashed images of me, blank-eyed, mindlessly packing canned goods into a brown paper bag while a grouchy old lady squawks orders at me. I shuddered. I didn't mind working at all – but the options in town were so, so unappealing. I would agree to shop around, at least.

"Now, I have an idea," Charlie began carefully as he set his napkin on his plate. "And if you don't want it I won't take offense. But you know Allyson Hayes is gonna pop that baby out any day now."

I nodded, wide-eyed. Her belly could have housed a refugee camp.

"Well, nobody's figured out who's gonna replace her when she goes out on maternity. It'd last close to the whole summer, probably mid-August, which would give you plenty of time to get ready for next school year. Hours are decent, I'd have to talk to the town clerk about your pay, but if you want it, the offer's there. What do you think?"

"Sure," I agreed, my fears of retail monotony fading fast. "But…what does Allyson actually do? Besides answer phones and stuff? I just don't wanna get in over my head. She's got a lot of…you know, papers."

"It's not hard. Just filing and updating things, keeping records organized and that type of thing. I think." That was Charlie's way of admitting he had no idea.

"Well, I guess I can figure it out," I decided.

"All this, assuming, of course, that you could put up with being around your lame old dad a lot more." He gave me a tentative smile across the table.

I grinned in return. "I guess," I pretended to groan.

Just about two weeks later, I spent a couple of hours at the station with Allyson learning the ropes of my new position. I was fascinated by her belly and amazed at the fact that that baby hadn't just fallen out at some point – she was that big. Most of the morning I spent dodging her stomach and fetching her glasses of water. The heat was damn near oppressive at that point and I did not envy her condition one bit.

We stood at the main computer at the front desk while she showed me the different databases and e-mail system. "This is the internal officer directory," she said, pointing at the screen. "In here, you can type any officer's name who works in the state of Washington and get his contact information. This is helpful when you have referral cases coming in and you need more details, or if we are passing on a case to another department."

"Allyson!" My dad's voice grumbled from somewhere nearby. "Where did you put the copy paper?"

She rolled her eyes. "In the second cabinet, where it always is!"

"I'm looking in the second cabinet! There's nothing there!"

With a sigh she waddled away. A few seconds went by, and then I heard my father's voice. "Oh. Thanks."

"Of course, Charlie," I heard Allyson answer dryly. "Do you know how to load it in the copier? So it doesn't jam?"

Sensing that instructing my father on the proper maintenance of office equipment could take some time, I turned back to the computer screen. I had an idea.

I dug through my purse and retrieved one of the tickets Deputy Douchebag had given me. Under Issuing Officer was written E. Cullen, which I hurriedly typed into the database. There was only one result: Edward Anthony Cullen. I clicked on his name and his officer profile came up.

His file photo came up, and it hit me again how ruggedly handsome he was. I already knew that he was a county officer, but apparently he was part of a tactical unit that worked mostly in downtown Seattle. He was twenty-seven years old and had been a cop since 2005. I scrolled down and even though he was relatively young, his list of accolades and accomplishments was impressive. Several stints on special assignment squads, a number of excellence awards, and even a commendation from the mayor of Seattle for heroic action on behalf of another officer. I was shocked. This guy was kind of a big deal. So what was he doing in Forks? Besides antagonizing unsuspecting cops' daughters, that is?

I heard Allyson's heavy footsteps drawing closer and I hurriedly closed the search window.

"Well, I don't know about you but I could use some lunch. How about a-" Suddenly Allyson's face froze up and I heard something that sounded like a sprinkler hitting pavement. I glanced down and realized it was Allyson. She was…peeing?

"My water," she cried weakly. And then she doubled over, nearly collapsing onto the tiled floor. "You have to call my husband, Bella. And get your dad in here." She let loose a pained cry that made me wince. Contractions, I realized in a panic.

I scrambled into my dad's office. He glanced up from his desk, alarmed. "Dad! Allyson's – I don't know what's happening, I think her water broke and she looks like she's in a lot of pain. What do I-"

But Charlie had already sprinted past me and into the lobby. He grabbed one of the radios from their charging stations and barked into it that he needed an ambulance. Now. Allyson's eyes flashed wide and she grabbed her belly, panting. Terrified, I just stood like a statue, unsure of how to help.

A few minutes went by of Charlie cradling her on the floor, instructing her how to breathe and whenever a contraction hit, held her hand as she screamed. I was horrified. Something seemed to be wrong – I thought the labor process usually took a lot longer than this. As if on cue, she wailed out in pain again and clutched Charlie's arm.

"Goddammit," Charlie muttered. "Where the hell are they coming from? Topeka?" He helped Allyson to her feet carefully. "Bella, I'm gonna take her to County myself. I'll call you."

I nodded numbly. I ran around the desk and opened the doors for them as he gently carried her out to his cruiser, laying her on the backseat. As he started the engine, I stood back, watching my father's tightened expression as he flicked on his lights and sped away.

I found out later that day that the baby was fine. More than fine, actually. Eight pounds, four ounces, and a whopping twenty-three inches long. Allyson's husband, Sam, showed up not five minutes after they reached the county hospital, and thankfully everything went smoothly from there. Except now I had this job that I had no idea how to do, and no one to show me.

I stumbled through most of the week without incidence, trying hard to figure out where everything went and how things worked by trial and error. I never realized how much Allyson was responsible for – keeping track of each officer's hours, managing all of their benefits, making sure faxes went to the right person and each call was logged and handled properly. I was a disaster at first, but by the end of the week I had stopped hyperventilating as much and remembering more.

I was sorting through the sizeable pile of incoming faxes when I heard my name. "Bella!" It was my father.

"Yeah?" I called over my shoulder.

"I'm taking off in a minute," my dad announced as he I glanced up at the clock; it was nearly five. "You're coming to the Crowleys' cookout tonight, right?"

"Oh, crap," I smacked my forehead. I had totally forgotten; the Crowleys had an annual Memorial Day barbecue at their house that the whole Forks PD and their families were invited to. In a town like Forks, it was the social event of the year. "Yeah, Dad. I'll meet you at home, okay?"

Charlie and I pulled into the Crowleys' crowded driveway at almost six-thirty. Nearly everyone was at least a familiar face. Jim Crowley was the next most senior officer in the department next to my dad, and they had been friends since before I was born. It was a small, tight-knit community. Everyone treated me like a little sister – well, everyone except Mike Newton.

I had known Mike since I was in preschool and he was in second grade. He was a nice enough guy, I guess, but he was one of those people who just didn't get it. He drove a loud, obnxious Camaro, wore sunglasses at all hours and addressed nearly everyone as "bro." And…he seemed to believe that he and I were meant for each other. He'd always be just a friend for me, though. You know the kind. The friend that nobody likes.

Oh, speak of the devil.

I was immediate accosted as soon as Charlie and I walked through the backyard gate. The barbecue was already in full swing, with nearly every officer and his family in attendance. Mike almost knocked the fruit salad I'd brought out of my hands. "Let me take that for you!" he insisted loudly. Charlie rolled his eyes and set off for the beer cooler. I wished I could do the same – Mike would be a lot more tolerable if I had a solid buzz going.

I allowed Mike to take the Tupperware from me with a flourish. "How's it going, Mike?" I asked mildly, knowing that he was going to give me the complete, play-by-play rundown of his life in full detail.

And, as predicted, he took the bait. "Oh, you know, same old, same old," he replied airily. "Just the gym, work, target practice, the gym some more. I go every day, you know." Yes. I did know. He has informed me of this many times. "Went on a date last week," he threw in casually, trying to seem inconspicuous as he monitored my face for a reaction. I didn't move a muscle. "But eh, I don't know. I don't really like _blondes_ that much." Oh, for Pete's sake. He might as well be drooling down my shirt.

Luckily, he offered to get me something to drink then, so he took off toward the refreshments. I studied him from afar. He wasn't a bad-looking guy – sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and he wasn't lying about the gym. But he was just one of Those Guys. The ones who popped their collars and wore obnoxious cologne in even more obnoxious amounts. I'm not one to judge – in places like Long Island and Miami he'd fit right in. But in Forks, he just looked…weird.

Mike returned with a cold lemonade for me and a beer for himself. And then he launched right back into the Antagonize Bella Until She Agrees to Date Me campaign. "So I see that you left what's-his-name home with his mommy today," he commented casually, leaning against the wooden post of the deck.

I shot him a withering look. "His name is Eric," I corrected him sharply. This was the last thing I wanted to talk about and he was the last person I wanted to talk about it with. "And for the record, we're not together anymore." I mumbled the last few words in hopes that he wouldn't catch them.

"Oh, is that so?" He instantly perked up, to my disappointment. "Well, not for anything, of course, but I never liked the kid."

I rolled my eyes. Mike was twenty-three. He had no business calling anyone a kid unless they were in diapers.

"Bella Swan!" Jim Crowley's hearty voice called from across the backyard. He was in front of the grill, holding a barbecue fork in one hand and a beer in the other, wearing an apron with "Kiss the Cop" emblazoned across the front. "Get over here, you old lady! When did you get so grown up?"

I was so grateful for the interruption that I gladly ditched Mike and made a beeline for the grill. He hugged me tightly. "Howya doing, kiddo? College treating you well? Nothin' too wild, I hope!" He winked at me.

"As far as Dad knows," I answered cheekily. Jim bellowed a laugh and Charlie made a face.

Jim handed me a paper plate piled high with barbecued chicken, macaroni salad and grilled vegetables. I headed over to Charlie and wedged myself between him and Jim's wife, Nina, at one of the picnic tables they had set up. Mike looked disappointed.

The backyard was mostly silent as everyone dug into their food, which was delicious and tasted exactly like summer. About halfway through the meal, Jim nudged Charlie. "Hey, boss. I hope you don't mind, I asked the new kid to stop by. Thought he could meet everybody and have a couple of beers before he starts Tuesday."

Charlie nodded, still chewing. "Fine by me. I just hope he keeps his big-city attitude to himself."

I glanced back and forth between the two men. I hadn't heard anything about a new kid.

"New? I thought he was from County," called Mike, who had finished eating early and was tossing a football back and forth with Jim's oldest son, Shawn.

"He is," my dad confirmed. "But he's been helping out with Seattle's tactical and patrol units. I spoke with his CO - apparently he's quite a good cop. All I gotta say is he better not roll in here thinking he's John Wayne or something. Small towns don't handle that kind of thing very well."

I gulped down the rest of my lemonade, suddenly feeling very warm. If Edward Cullen was transferring to Forks, that meant I'd be seeing a lot of him. My mind was swept up in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions – why did someone so freaking gorgeous have to be such an asshole?

And then said asshole walked in.

He looked pretty normal, I guess. Like I'd mentioned before, he didn't _look_ like a complete and utter jerkoff. He looked like he stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. Only fifteen or twenty times hotter. He wore a pair of cargo shorts with a Seattle University t-shirt, and regular sneakers, and I swear, that getup never looked so good.

He carried a twelve-pack of Budweiser, which Jim immediately relieved him of with a handshake. He nodded a hello to our collective group and followed Jim to the grill. I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know what I wanted more – him to leave and get hit by a car, or for him to throw me down on one of these picnic tables and-

"Bella! This is Edward. Edward, this is Charlie's daughter." Jim was introducing each person to Edward, and I guess it was my turn.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've met," I informed everyone dryly. His otherworldly green eyes locked with mine and I saw recognition in them. He didn't smile. In fact, I thought he looked downright uncomfortable. Good.

Jim didn't catch this unspoken exchange between the two of us. "Bella's working at the station for the summer," he informed Edward, who hadn't broken our eye contact. He was staring at me so intently I thought his eyeballs would fall out. I hoped they did. Oh, God, I took that back. They were far too luscious a color.

Once Jim finished introductions mostly everyone was finished eating, so the tables began to clear out as the younger officers organized a game of touch football. Charlie and Jim settled into lawn chairs to discuss the Seahawks' draft picks, and I was left to my own devices. I decided to make myself useful and help Nina clean up.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Edward as he participated in the game. He was a couple of inches taller than Mike, who seemed to immediately regard him as competition in every sense. And he was a bit lankier than I thought initially. He was still muscular and lithe, though, and watching him run around was something I could do all day every day for the rest of my existence.

He approached the table I was currently clearing, poured himself a glass of water, and regarded me carefully. I felt myself blush hard, cursing myself for reacting to his presence so strongly, and busied myself with wrapping everything in plastic wrap. He finished the water in one long gulp. "Your boyfriend over there seems to think I'm moving in on his territory," he said casually, but with an arrogant air – like he found my irritation with him amusing.

I set down the plate of watermelon I was working on. "Excuse me?" I replied curtly.

He gestured towards Mike, who had peeled off his polo shirt and was now playing barechested. The only one, of course. "He told me you secretly had the hots for him, and it was only a matter of time before you realized it, so I'd better keep my hands to myself." A cocky half-smile crept across his face. It was so damn sexy I suddenly felt dizzy.

Keep it together, Bella, I chastised myself. You're supposed to hate him, remember? "Well, you can reassure him that that's not going to be a problem. Because if your hands do come anywhere near me, I will chop them off and feed them to you. 'Kay?" I gave him the most insincere smile I could muster and marched away to the Crowleys' kitchen. I didn't have to look back to know that his smugness had been wiped clean off his face. Score one for Bella.

* * *

Thoughts? This is my new pet project and I know I have a bad habit of starting things and then abandoning them, but I'm confident this one won't go that way. Let me know what you think - it's gonna get a lot hotter from here...


	2. If You Play With Fire

Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Author's Notes: So, I'm gonna be That Girl and I've replaced Chapter 2 with a rewritten chapter that I like a whole lot better. It's mostly the same until the last half, so you can probably just skim that part if you like. I apologize – I hate changing anything once it's been posted, but it was just one of those things that had to be done. Anywhoozles, hopefully you agree that it's an improvement! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2. If You Play With Fire…

The rest of the holiday weekend was pleasant and uneventful, if stiflingly hot. My dad spent the remainder of it fishing, watching Sportscenter and working on various parts of the house. I, on the other hand, spent my Memorial Day weekend in Rosalie Hale's pool, sunning myself. Well, she was sunning herself – I was slathered in sunscreen praying my milky-white pallor wouldn't fry like a piece of bacon.

Rose and had been friends since middle school, but the on-again, off-again type that fluctuated depending on if she had a boyfriend. Which, given her Victoria's-Secret-model body and knockout looks, was most of the time. Except this weekend, since she had broken things off with her latest flame – the starting quarterback of the Division I football team for the posh Southern university she attended. I envied her, if for nothing more than her easy self-assurance and utter lack of insecurity.

"I swear to God, Bella, if I had to listen to one more play-by-play of that touchdown I was going to rip my hair out and strangle him with it. Really." I was intrigued. Rose was a year ahead of me in school, and life consisted of what her sorority's rush theme should be and where they should hold their next date party. Her family was wealthy, even by Forks standards, and her parents had made sure she was on the fast track to admission into any law school in the country. Given her hard-as-nails stubbornness and frequent off-color remarks, she'd make a perfect attorney. I knew I'd melt like butter on a hot summer day if I had someone like Rosalie barreling at me on the witness stand.

As we lay on cushy floats and meandered around her pool, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to Edward Cullen and our tense encounter at the barbecue. He was so smug, I thought, recalling his cocky smile and easygoing posture. But there was something hard behind that – like velvet covering steel. It was in his eyes. The way he stared unabashedly at me when we were being introduced. There was some kind of fiery intensity burning inside him that scared me a little.

And drew me in further.

"So you're working at the station all summer?" Rose dangled her manicured fingers in the cool water.

I let out a long sigh. "All summer," I confirmed.

She snorted. "Too bad all the cops there are practically ready to retire. I love a man in uniform."

Immediately I thought of my dad. Gross. "Rose – ew. Seriously."

She shrugged. "Your dad's not bad for his age-"

"Rose! So help me God, I will overturn your float."

She glared at me. Leave it to Rosalie to spend an entire day in a pool and not expect to get wet. "Okay, okay. I'm just saying. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

I hesitated for a long moment. I wanted to keep my…experiences…with Edward to myself, but I found myself dying to spill to someone, if for no other reason than to hear it aloud. "Well, there is this new guy…"

She perked up, like I knew she would. "Oh-ho, so there is one red-blooded male there besides your father. Tell me."

I shot her a warning look before I continued. "He's…hot," I confessed. "Like, melt-into-a-puddle hot." I proceeded to update her on my encounters with Edward, from the disastrous traffic stop right up to the barbecue. Which was pretty much the entirety of my interactions with him. "So, point being – he's gorgeous, but he's a dick."

"Mmhmm," she replied in a been-there, done-that kind of way. "That's usually how it is. Can't have it all, you know."

"Plus," I went on, "he works for my dad. Charlie would shit a brick if I went out with a cop in his department. Or any cop, for that matter. A few of them are decent but the majority are arrogant, cocky jerks who think they rule the world."

Rose lifted her head off of the pillow on her float and removed her huge Gucci sunglasses, fixing me with her icy blue stare. "Bella Swan. You've obviously given this a lot of thought." An amused smile crossed her face.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Not really," I protested. "Dad wouldn't let me go out with Mike Newton, either. Not that that's done anything to discourage him."

"Mike's an idiot," Rose stated dryly, replacing her sunglasses and settling back down on her float. "And as I recall, you don't want anything to do with him anyway."

She was right, as per usual. "I don't know, Rose. It'd be one thing if this new guy just worked with Charlie. I'm at the station the entire summer – I have to see him every day." I tried to make it sound like I was dismayed at this fact, but I even sounded fake to myself.

Judging by the look on Rose's face, I did a crap job. "Mmhmm. And I bet it just breaks your heart that you're stuck in boring old Forks all summer."

Tuesday morning came bright and early. As I showered and blow-dried my hair, I willed myself to ignore Edward as much as possible. He seemed to take pleasure in getting a rise out of me and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

I chose my outfit carefully. A plain blue t-shirt and denim capris – nothing too eye-catching. I wanted to blend in as much as possible.

But I wanted Edward to notice me, too.

After ten minutes of debate, I changed into a blue and white striped t-shirt with a v-neck. There. Not exactly a sign screaming, "Drop the Asshole Front and Come Ravish Me," but it wasn't saying "Ignore Me" either.

When I arrived at the station around nine, I logged into the computer system and began sorting through the various e-mails and faxes that had come through over the weekend. One request from another town's secretary was long and involved – she needed paperwork sent over several weeks ago about a DWI stop that one of our officers had conducted in their jurisdiction. I was so busy digging through piles of paper that when the door creaked open I jumped like my ass had been lit on fire.

It was my father and, to my dismay, Edward. "Morning," I greeted them both nonchalantly.

"Morning," Charlie replied. "You remember Edward, Bella." I said nothing as those green eyes locked with mine and we stared each other down. My heart leapt, twisted, did backflips. But at that moment, something inside of me snapped like a dry twig – all of the frustration and aggravation I had been experiencing for the past few weeks came to a head. I felt myself growing angry, and the two-headed monster that was my feelings toward Edward (part lust and part loathing) reared its ugly head. "You mind showing him around? I got a couple things that need to get done before I take him out on road patrol."

I almost didn't hear him. "Sure," I replied robotically.

Charlie took off for the breakroom, where the coffee was already brewing. Like a spell had broken, I snapped out of my trance and gave Edward a tight smile. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" I grumbled. Don't think about how good he looks in his uniform. Don't think about how you want to run your fingers through his messy bronze hair. Don't think about what the faint stubble on his face feels like-

"Feisty this morning, aren't we?" he mused. "Not even ten o'clock yet and you're already coming out guns blazing."

I chose to pointedly ignore him. "This is where all the interoffice memos go and any internal mail for you. As long as you can read your own name, you should be okay." I pointed to where "Cullen" was neatly labeled under the wooden cubbyhole.

I briskly turned on my heel and proceeded to the next room. "This is the breakroom. Relatively self-explanatory, but if you need, I can find you an instruction manual." I was really on a roll here. I could see his expression darkening every time I tossed a jab out at him.

Next was the locker room, which was located in an alcove towards the back of the building, at the end of a long hallway. "Can't really help you here," I shrugged, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But if you get confused, just remember that your door is _not_ the one with the little person wearing a skirt. Or, hey, if you're into that kind of thing-"

Edward's hand shot out across the narrow doorway, effectively blocking my path and cutting off my catty remark. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw set. I could see that he was struggling to hold back his temper, and suddenly I was very aware that he and I were standing very, very close to each other in a place that was fairly secluded.

He turned his body so that we were standing nearly nose to nose. Well, nose to sternum, since he was so much taller than me. The sheer proximity was doing chaotic things to my heart (and hormones) – in that moment I wasn't sure if he was going to shake me or kiss me. In a twisted sort of way, I wanted both.

"What the hell is your problem?" he hissed.

_My _problem? This guy had some balls. "My problem, funny you should ask, is that you're going to cost me upwards of three hundred dollars for tickets I never should have gotten. It's probably some big joke to you, no one escapes the long arm of the law, ha ha ha, right? Well, it's a big freaking deal to me, Bella Swan, poor college student. Just for your information." I crossed my arms defensively across my chest.

His expression remained completely unchanged. "I was just doing my job."

"And I'm doing mine," I shot back. I fixed him with the most venomous stare I could manage. "Come on. I've got a few more places to show you, and Charlie's not a patient guy."

The rest of the tour was silent on Edward's part. When I returned to the front desk, Charlie was leaning on it, flipping through an issue of Guns & Ammo. "All set?"

"He's all yours." I smiled sweetly at my dad before taking my place behind the desk. "Have fun."

I focused myself on checking the incoming e-mails and didn't look up as they walked out together. When the door had shut safely behind them, I let out a long breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Surprisingly, the first emotion that rushed to the surface was guilt. When did I learn to be so cruel? Edward had barely said a word to me since he'd arrived and all I'd done is probably make him glad he'd ticketed me.

I slumped into my desk chair and put my head in my hands. The Bella that Edward had so far seen was not me, not at all. It had never been in my nature to go so far out of my way to be nasty to someone, regardless of the reason.

I resolved that when he and Charlie returned I would apologize. I would make it right, and go back to resenting/lusting after him from afar.

Except they didn't come back. Lunchtime rolled around, then midafternoon, then nearly five. I was packing up to head home when finally he and Charlie strolled back in at five on the dot. Charlie made a beeline for his office and shut the door behind him. Edward paused at the mailboxes, selecting his and pulling out the already sizeable stack of memos awaiting him.

I mustered up all the courage I could and took a few hesitant steps in his direction. "Edward," I began somberly. He didn't even look at me, just continued to sift through his mail. I continued anyway. "I just wanted to say that I-"

He turned briskly and walked right past me, his eyes trained on the papers in his hand the entire time. He didn't even acknowledge that I'd spoken. It wasn't until he was out the door and in his car that I realized what had happened.

He had completely ignored me.

My jaw dropped open. That bastard. Here I was, trying to apologize for being Bitch of the Year, and he shut me down like nobody's business.

Bitterly I shook my head. Should I have expected any less?

Over the following week, I found myself obsessing over the presence of Edward; as much as I despised him, I craved being around him, too. It was the push and pull of a classic love-hate dynamic – I'd glare at him every time we made eye contact but as soon as he turned away all I could think about were ways I could gain his attention again. Covertly, of course. The last thing I wanted was for him to have the satisfaction of knowing he was the reason I was almost blinding myself trying to apply mascara every morning.

I was also dead set on finding the reason why Edward was in Forks. It just didn't make sense – the sudden transfer, the fact that he had a very promising career with a larger department. Why abandon that to write parking tickets and investigate purse snatchings? My dad has regularly accepted a number of older officers looking to finish out their careers somewhere less volatile. For someone like Edward, though, transferring to Forks was the equivalent of being put out to pasture. Or, maybe more like the slaughterhouse.

Edward was supposed to be on road patrol all day, for which I was glad. Having him around the station made me tense and uncomfortable. I wanted him to know that I wasn't the venom-spewing Medusa he probably figured I was, but after being completely rejected before, I was a little hesitant to go barking up that tree again.

My eyes ticked over from the e-mail I was typing to across the room, where Edward was perusing the contents of a file folder. Perched on the edge of a standard-issue steel desk, he looked like he belonged on the cover of some dirty Playgirl calendar. I wanted everyone else to disappear so I could finally purge my guilt and apologize to him, but it appeared that that wasn't happening anytime soon.

Charlie came out of his office then, interrupting my hot and heavy daydreams. "Edward," he called gruffly across the bullpen. Edward snapped his head up at the summons. "I just got off the phone with a lieutenant from Clallam County and he says he's missing a number of completed case reports from before your transfer."

Edward sighed and dropped the folder he had been looking through onto the desk. "Okay. How many? I'll finish 'em up before I leave for patrol."

Charlie looked annoyed. "Seventeen." He fixed him with a disapproving glare. "He wants them by five today. You're gonna have to stay here and get them done, Edward. I'll have to send someone else out," he said tersely.

Edward pursed his lips and nodded. He then dropped into the nearest desk chair and started logging himself into the computer set up there, all with a blank expression on his face.

Charlie approached me looking a little disgruntled. "Don't wait for me for dinner, Bells. I'm gonna have to take Edward's place on the road, since Mike's off today and everybody else is already assigned. I'll see you tonight." I nodded soberly as he retrieved his keys from the hooks on the wall and headed out the door. I felt bad for Charlie then – he was always a take-one-for-the-team kind of person and it figured that he would shoulder a burden himself rather than pass it on to someone else, even if they were available.

The other guys working the day shift drifted out slowly, so that left me and Edward as the only two at the station. The clock read nine fifty-eight. The officers working the evening shift wouldn't show until about four. That left six hours that we would be mostly alone. Together. As usual when it came to Edward, I was simultaneously thrilled and apprehensive.

I tried to focus on my work – there wasn't a lot for me to do today but I needed to keep busy if I was going to be sharing the place with the king of all distractions. Once I finished answering the never-ending list of case report requests, I reorganized the hard drive into case reports by officer and date of entry. Then I cleaned out my e-mail inbox. I rearranged the supply cabinets and made a list of things we needed to order. I even straightened the break room, cleaning out the refrigerator (which hadn't appeared to have been done in ages) and the microwave. Through my whirlwind of activity I had succeeded in ignoring Edward as much as physically possible as he sat dejectedly at his desk, typing away. He barely seemed to notice me, which annoyed me more than I cared to admit.

When I was finished with my overhaul, the clock indicated that it was nearly noon. That was it. I pulled my turkey sandwich and orange Crush from the newly sparkling fridge and settled at one of two small tables in the break room. I ate in silence, absentmindedly reading the Department of Labor posters that adorned the dingy gray walls.

A few minutes after I began my lunch I heard Edward's footsteps approach. I fixed my eyes on the table as I heard him open the fridge and retrieve what was presumably his lunch. He sat at the other table, not quite facing me but not clearly not inviting conversation, either.

Silence stretched between us as we both ate our respective lunches. I tried to avoid looking at Edward at all costs by studying the woodgrain of the table I was sitting at. Fascinating.

I got up from my place to rinse out my soda can at the sink. I turned the large faucet knob and I don't know how it happened, if maybe I loosened something I shouldn't have, but the knob came off in my hand. The spout itself fell into the sink and suddenly freezing water began to gush into the air. I shrieked and staggered backward as the water sprayed high into the air, soaking me within two or three seconds.

Edward leapt out of his chair and rushed over, holding his hand out to try and block the cascade of water that was fast drenching everything in sight. He tried to reach down into the broken faucet to turn the water off, struggled for a few moments as the water soaked him completely from the waist up, and swore as he backed off. He knelt down and opened the cupboard below the sink, rummaging around until he must have found a valve that shut the flow off completely, because the geyser finally sputtered and quit.

He sat back amid the massive puddle that was surrounding the sink. I reached around to my hair and twisted it into a knot, squeezing at least a few ounces of water out onto the tile. My clothes were entirely drenched, and as the chill of the air conditioner reached me I realized that my pale blue t-shirt was effectively see-through. The pale pink bra I wore was clearly outlined, and it did nothing to hide my nipples which were hardened by the cold. I folded my arms protectively over my chest, well aware that Edward had gotten an eyeful. The blush crept over my face like a warm blanket.

Which really would have been nice right about then. A blanket, that is. I felt so naked.

He got to his feet slowly, as the floor was extremely slick. Something fiery spread through me as I took in his tall, muscular form and the way his wet uniform clung to him. Drops of water clung to the ends of his bronze, mussed-up hair. He was breathing deep but evenly, and I found myself mesmerized by the way his shoulders rose and fell. I wanted to peel the wet layers of clothing from his body and run my tongue over every exposed inch.

Edward stared at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I felt the crackle of the rising tension between us, and if he had closed the small gap of space between us and kissed me, or hoisted me up onto the countertop and tore my clothes from my body I wouldn't have fought him. I wouldn't even have thought twice.

He took one solitary step towards me. My heart, already racing, doubled its pace. He was so close I could already smell the heady mix of soap and aftershave and something woodsy.

The main door squeaked open and then clanged shut, breaking the spell between us. Mike barged into the break room carrying a takeout bag and a Coke, grinning from ear to ear. "Holy shit, you guys won't believe what-" His smile vanished as he absorbed the sight of both Edward and I, soaked to the bone, standing not even two feet from each other. "What the hell happened to you two?" he asked in a confused tone. His eyes shot back and forth between Edward and I and I could see the suspicion clouding his face.

Edward reacted first. "Sink's busted," he explained gruffly. "I was just gonna call Charlie and get ahold of a plumber." He stalked out, leaving a trail of watery footsteps behind him.

I barely moved an inch. Mike took in my nearly transparent clothing and at least had the decency to offer me a dry shirt, although I did catch him ogling for a moment. I nodded fervently.

Charlie returned a few minutes later, cursing the lousy plumbing and how the same problem had come up more than once in the past year. I spent the remainder of the day in a Forks PD t-shirt two sizes too big and Edward and I avoided each other like the plague.

The rest of the week went by fast, but not mercifully fast enough. The station was busy – the holding cells constantly occupied as domestic disputes were broken up and DWI's were caught. A couple of high school kids were caught red-handed trying to buy beer from the convenience store not a mile from the station, and they whined and complained for hours until their parents came and got them. It was hectic. If Edward tried to get my attention at all I didn't know about it. And vice versa.

Friday afternoon things finally died down. A couple of the older officers were convened in Charlie's office, organizing a fishing trip for the weekend. The younger guys listened enviously; not that they weren't invited, they just didn't have enough seniority to have weekends off yet. It was the way of the world.

I was faxing a copy of a deposition that had been requested by another department when I overheard my father's gruff voice, having what sounded like a very tense conversation. I edged a little closer to his office, curious as to what could possibly perturb Charlie Swan aside from a canceled fishing trip or a broken TV during the playoffs.

"I don't appreciate you treating Forks like it's some kind of time-out room for misbehavior, by the way," I heard him inform the caller icily. "Might be a small town but there are people here just the same. And I'd bet my lucky socks that they wouldn't like knowing that this place is like a rehab for unruly officers."

I frowned. Charlie had lucky socks? Intrigued, I abandoned the fax/copy machine and wedged myself next to his door, which was just barely cracked open. I heard him sigh. "He's doing fine, I suppose. Doesn't talk too much or get in anybody's way. Just does the job and goes home. I see now what you meant about him having a temper, though. He's always got this look on his face like he's about to explode." He listened for a moment before responding again. "Well, for God's sake, Roger, do you want me to wipe his ass for him too? How the hell would I know if he's been going to his counseling appointments? You're his CO, really, not me. I hope for his sake he's going, though. After what he's…been through, he's got a lot of issues to work out."

My eyes widened. They were definitely talking about Edward. I craned my neck as close as I could get next to the inch or so of open space between the door and its frame. "I guess that'll work. Once school's back in session things tend to calm down around here, so if you want to pull him out around then I won't need to ask anyone to take overtime. Sure, sure. Give me a call back if you need anything else." The phone dropped onto the desk with a heavy thunk, and I hastily stood before anyone could accuse me of eavesdropping

My mind raced with all of the information I gleaned from Charlie's phone call. Edward was on some sort of punishment, and being sent to work in Forks was clearly only temporary. Counseling appointments? Definitely not a good sign.

Just then two officers strolled through the door, escorting a young, scruffy-looking man in handcuffs. They led him purposefully through the station to the back where the holding cells were located. I sighed. Bookings were a lot of paperwork that I thought was mostly pointless but had to be completed according to very strict standards. Legal records, and all that.

As I gathered the necessary blank forms I heard my cell vibrate in my purse. I dug it out and saw that it was a text from Rose.

**What are you doing later?**

**Watching paint dry, followed by counting the cracks in my ceiling. You?** I texted back.

**You're coming here and we're going out. My friend Alice from school is visiting. Bring something decent to wear. **Rose could never be accused of being misleading or indirect.

**K. What time?**

** By 9. Tell your dad you're sleeping here. Don't tell him anything else.**

** K. See ya then. **I stared at my phone, fully confident that whatever it was we were going to do, it was probably going to be something I'd regret.

"Okay, I think I'm ready." At least, I thought I was. By my standards. When Angela and I and a couple of other girlfriends had gone to the various house parties and dorm parties around campus, there was never a need to dress in anything but what we'd worn that day. Sometimes that meant jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes that meant sweats. It depended on the day, and if we'd made it to class. I guess I expected Rose, the closest thing to a debutante that Forks had ever seen, would have slight qualms with my outfit choice. But I did not expect either her or her sorority sister, Alice, to stare at me like I'd wandered out in a marching band costume and snowshoes.

I squirmed with discomfort as they visually dissected what I thought was a perfectly acceptable ensemble. A plain black v-neck top and snug but comfortable jeans. I thought I looked fine.

But, survey says…I thought wrong.

Whole seconds ticked by before Rose cautiously opened her mouth. "You know, Bella, I have this great top that would look amazing on you. My hips are too big for it to fall the way it's supposed to." I had a hard time believing that anything short of a paper bag would look less than spectacular on Rosalie, so I was sure she was tactfully trying to remedy my misguided fashion sense. I stood lamely in the doorway of her bathroom as she rifled through her ample closet. When she found her prize she marched over to me and thrust it into my hands. I glanced down at the silvery, drapey thing with trepidation. "Try it on. Thank me later." She smirked as she moved on to fussing with her cascading blonde hair in the mirror.

Alice sprung up from her cross-legged seat on the floor and gave me a quick once-over. "And, no offense, Bella, but it's probably eighty degrees out tonight and you're going to die of heat stroke if you wear those jeans. These will probably fit you," she said over her shoulder as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of black leggings. My eyes bugged out of my head. I never knew how leggings were supposed to be worn – were they pants? Were they only supposed to be worn under something like a skirt or a dress? I avoided them altogether because I didn't know what the accepted protocol was for wearing them.

I could only nod dumbly as I retreated back into Rose's bathroom with my revised outfit choices, and after some tugging and wedgie-picking I tiptoed back into the bedroom. The reaction this time was much more favorable, with both girls cooing over me like a shiny new toy. "Oh, Bella, this is much better. This top makes your boobs look huge!" Rose exclaimed, a note of envy in her voice.

"And the leggings look amazing on you! Your legs go on for miles, girl," added Alice. I decided I liked Alice – she was strikingly pretty, petite with dark, spiky hair cut into a bob. Her fashion sense was a little bolder and wilder than Rose's southern-debutante designer tastes. She was friendly and warm to me, and I could tell she liked me right away, but I still felt like the ugly duckling.

I finally turned around to see for myself what all the fuss was about. In Rosalie's full-length mirror, I saw what looked like me from the neck up, but a whole different person from that point down. The top was empire-waisted with a plunging neckline, emphasized by silver beading along the underside of my breasts. It was long, too, falling to cover most of my butt, and for that I was grateful. The black leggings did look pretty awesome – my legs were skinny but the clinginess of the stretchy fabric made them look more shapely.

I'm pleased, despite myself. I felt pretty, like legitimately and truly attractive, for the first time since…well, ever, if I was blatantly honest with myself. "Thanks, guys," I murmured softly.

The tiny smile creeping across my face instantly registered with both Rosalie and Alice, who descend upon me like a pair of wolves on their prey. Alice came over to stand in front of me and stared at my face like she was choosing produce at the supermarket. "Can you hand me the eye pencil on the dresser, right there? The gray one, not the black. And the charcoal eye shadow," she called to Rose.

"You know," I broke in, a little panicked, "I don't usually wear anything on my eyes-"

"Bella," Alice interrupted matter-of-factly. "Once I'm through with you, you will be eating your words." Her face broke into a wide grin. "This is awesome! Nobody ever lets me just run wild like this." She actually clapped her hands with glee. My blood ran cold, and I just hoped to God that when she was done I didn't look too much like a hooker.

Rose tossed her the pencil and eyeshadow box and Alice expertly applied both of the items to my eyes, while I stood there like a mannequin. Rose then attacked my hair with a brush and a curling iron, wrapping large chunks of it around the iron until my entire head was a cascading mass of waves. I didn't even have a chance to protest while they were busy applying God-knows-what to my cheeks and lips and Alice even put earrings on my ears – long dangly things that I was sure would get painfully caught in my hair.

When they were finally done I barely recognized my own reflection – at first. The more I studied myself, the more I realized it was still me in the mirror, just slightly enhanced. Alice hadn't turned me into a working girl at all, just added a little definition around my eyes with the liner and a bit of shadow on my lids. The lip gloss was pale and subtle, and just a hint of blush colored my cheeks. Coupled with the romantic, voluminous waves falling over my shoulders, I felt like a celebrity. I could finally see how girls like Rose and Alice could march into anywhere they wanted and act like they owned the place – it was impossible not to feel confident when you looked this good.

I smiled gratefully into Rosalie's mirror. "Wow."

"You look hot," Rose commented bluntly. "Own it, Bella. And you can thank us by leaving the wallflowering to someone else and talking to a guy of your own volition."

"Agreed," Alice added in. "We're not exactly painting the town tonight, but you never know when you might meet The One, you know?" She twirled in a sexy, violet off-the-shoulder top and a cropped pair of leggings that looked like jeans. A pair of silver heels completed her look and for a moment I had to remind myself that we were in Forks, not Laguna Beach. She was tiny, petite, but her presence was as though she was six feet tall.

It dawned on me that I still had no idea where this girls' night was taking place. Rose had said simply that we were going out, and I had been perfectly fine with that. However, after the Extreme Bella Makeover I had just undergone, it was clear that our definitions of "out" needed to be reconciled. "So, you guys never actually told me where it is we're going tonight."

"Oh, right," said Rose as she meticulously applied lip gloss. "The only place worth going to within a fifty-mile radius. It's in Port Angeles, maybe you've heard of it. Vinyl?"

I frowned; the name didn't ring a bell. Definitely not the house party I was imagining, though, and one glaringly obvious detail stuck out at me like a sore thumb. Rosalie had turned twenty-one in January and I had a feeling she forgot that I was still a card-carrying member of the Raid-Parents'-Liquor-Cabinet-When-They're-on-Vacation Club. "That's a bar, right?"

"Club, technically." The pale turquoise halter top she wore showed off her already brilliant summer tan. Skinny jeans emphasized her impeccable figure, and I was immensely glad that she and Alice had primped me enough to hold my own alongside them. It would be all too easy to completely fade into the background around someone with such a powerful presence.

"Right. Um, so, usually when you go to bars they like you to, you know, show them a nice little card that tells them how old you are, and being only nineteen, this presents a small problem-"

At this Rosalie halted her attentions to her lips and whirled around. "You don't have a fake? Oh, God, you're a cop's kid. Of course you don't have a fake." She chewed her lip for a moment, careful not to smudge her handiwork. "Well, let me handle the bouncer. Worst case scenario, you borrow Alice's and walk in separately. Deal?"

I nodded, apprehension building slightly in my chest. Port Angeles was decently far from Forks, and the likelihood of running into someone who knew both me and my dad was low. Plus, at first glance I doubted anyone would recognize me.

I loaded my cell, my real driver's license, a Chapstick, and the little bit of cash I'd brought along into the tiny wristlet purse Alice had lent me. As we piled into Rose's immaculate BMW, I decided not to worry any further about my underage-ness and just go with the flow. Rose didn't seem terribly concerned, so I tried to work myself into the same vibe. Alice was busy texting on her iPhone and seemed equally as unfazed by the situation.

Looking back, If I had known exactly how this night was going to work out, I would have stayed home in my pajamas with a carton of Phish Food and On-demand, drowning myself in HBO reruns. But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20.

When we pulled into the crowded parking lot of the club at nearly eleven, my first thought was that there was no way in hell we were in Port Angeles. The tiny city is basically a harbor town and serves mostly tourists and fishermen, even though Peninsula College is located there. The bars were hardly more than holes in the wall that were, by some miracle, allowed a liquor license. The pulsating bass emanating from the brick walls of the large building we were approaching, though, implied that I was about to see a very different side of the town I'd only ever visited to shop and see movies.

Rosalie, Alice, and I approached the heavy black doors and I could feel the weight of the stares from the various people milling around outside, some patrons, some bar staff on smoke breaks. My skin crawled with self-consciousness and I tugged anxiously at my top. The paranoia was staggering; I felt as though everybody had x-ray vision and could see right into my tiny purse where my driver's license was screaming Nineteen! Come arrest me!

I nearly broke into a sweat as the bouncer, a hefty guy who appeared to be in his late twenties, came up to Rose and asked for her ID. She smiled and whispered something in his ear, and I watched in fascination as his expression turned from stern to relaxed. He smiled back and without any further hassle stepped aside so we could enter. Rose winked at him and plowed ahead triumphantly on her four-inch stiletto heels. Relieved, I eagerly followed her and Alice into the din.

The throbbing bass I heard from outside only became more intense as we entered. I realized then why the club was called Vinyl – they played all eighties and nineties music, interspersed with a few modern pop hits. I grinned as a heavily pumped-up version of "The Way You Make Me Feel" came on and I decided that I liked the place.

My two companions approached the bar and I was amazed as the crowd of people clustered there seemed to part for them. Many a male head was turned by them as they passed by, and a tiny part of me was thrilled as I realized that I was having the same effect. I had never been part of the Beautiful People, so to speak, but I could definitely get used to it.

Rose handed me a glass filled with something clear and bubbly, with a lime wedge floating inside. "What is this?" I yelled over the music.

"Grey Goose and Seven-Up," she answered, tossing a couple of twenties on the bar. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head; if that's what it cost to cover one round then I didn't bring nearly enough cash. "I got tonight, Bella. Don't worry about it." Rose winked at me.

I opened my mouth to protest but then Alice squealed, "?" She grabbed my hand and dragged me out on the dance floor, where it didn't look like another soul could fit amongst the fray of moving bodies, but she found a spot for us near the colossal speakers. "Like a Prayer" was blaring from the DJ booth and Alice was singing the opening words into her drink-turned-microphone. "I hear you call my name and it feels like hoooooome!" she belted and I couldn't help but grin at her fun-loving antics. I could definitely see her and I becoming fast friends.

I was no dancer, that was a given, but after a few minutes I felt myself getting into the music and grooving along with Rose and Alice. I could see why Vinyl was so popular – it was a place to get dressed up and dance in but the patrons seemed a lot more concerned about having fun than trying to be sexy or badass. It was a lot of fun, even for a spastic, clumsy dancer like myself. Every few songs the DJ would throw in something modern and I found myself screaming the words to "Bad Romance" with Alice like I was getting paid for it.

We finished our drinks quickly and replenished them just as fast. Alice and I made a bathroom run while Rose ordered our next round, and when we emerged we caught her being chatted up by a tall, well-muscled guy with short brown hair and a cocky smile. My own smile dissipated as recognition set in; I had seen him somewhere before. But where? I studied him intently, searching my mind for his face.

Rose noticed us gawking out of the corner of her eye and beckoned us over. "Girls," she began, "this is Emmett. He's been so kind as to buy us our next round." She handed us each a glass, this time of something darker and more ominous-looking. "You girls like Long Islands, right?" The mischievous glint in her blue eyes told me that none of us girls would need our wallets for the rest of the night.

I tasted mine and tried like hell not to spit it back onto Rose's expensive top. It tasted like rubbing alcohol with a splash of Coke in there somewhere, but I managed to keep my mouth shut and even smile a little. "Yup," I croaked.

"Nice to meet you, Emmett," Alice crooned, giving him a healthy once-over. "You didn't come here alone, did you?"

His handsome face laughed heartily. "Hardly. I couldn't get rid of these guys if I tried. Jazz! James!" he called over his shoulder. Two guys' heads perked up and once they laid eyes on us standing with Emmett, came jogging over at once. "These are my buddies, Jasper and James. I got another guy running around here somewhere, but who knows where he went." He shrugged, as if to say _First come, first serve_.

James had very dark, almost black hair that was spiked in the front, and he regarded me with an easy smile. Jasper was blonde-haired and had clear blue eyes, and once he locked eyes with Alice they both seemed to forget anyone else was there.

"Hi," he said, clearly transfixed.

"Hi," she answered back shyly.

The other four of us simply stood and watched with fascination at their strange encounter. Rose glanced back and forth between them dubiously. "Do you two know each other?" she asked skeptically.

Alice shook her head, but Jasper's face suddenly lit up. "

"James, this is my friend Bella. Doesn't she look pretty?" The evil smile on Rosalie's face made me want to drive her stiletto into her eyeball.

"I'd say she looks more than just pretty," James replied smoothly.

I was grateful for the club lights, so they could hide the blush that was creeping across my face and neck. I was very, very unused to this kind of attention from guys, especially good-looking ones, and especially good-looking ones that had no qualms with coming out and saying what they meant.

Rosalie and Emmett took that as their cue to return to their flirting and Alice and Jasper disappeared onto the patio. James and I were left standing by the bar, holding our drinks, as our friends abandoned us.

"Well, that was subtle," cracked James dryly. "I'm surprised they didn't toss a hotel key at us and tell us to meet them for breakfast."

I laughed, surprised at his forwardness. "They've clearly got other things on their minds," I agreed. And then I began to feel a little awkward – what if he was just being polite in talking to me and actually had some hot blonde somewhere he was trying to chat up? "If-if you've got something else going on, or something, you don't have to stand here. If you don't want to. You don't have to keep me company." I felt a sharp kick to my ankle and I stifled a cry. I glanced over at Rosalie to see her glaring at me out of the corner of her eye.

Luckily, James didn't seem to catch on. "What? Me? Not at all. I play wingman for Emmett and Jazz all the time. But, I have to say, this is the first time I'm really glad that I did." He gave me this lazy half-smile, and I noticed that he was truly a good-looking guy. He had an angular face and dark blue eyes that complemented his nearly jet-black hair, as well as a tall, muscular frame that towered over me.

I smiled in reply, feeling a little giddy at his compliment. I sip my drink furiously, choking down the burn and hoping the alcohol will calm my nerves a little, and find that it is nearly empty. I was starting to feel quite warm and pleasantly unwound.

"Let me get that for you," James offered, taking the glass from me and flagging down the nearest bartender. "What'd you have, sweetheart?" he called back to me.

"Long Island," I answered automatically, and kick myself. I really, really didn't want to have to suffer through another glass of motor oil mixed with kerosene.

"Sure thing." He threw a few bills on the bar and handed me my newly replenished drink.

"Thank you," I said as I took the first sip. Not as bad this time. Maybe the buzz was helping numb my taste buds. I took a bigger sip, and found the taste slightly more tolerable.

"So," he began as he leaned both elbows back onto the bar, facing me. "Bella. Tell me something I don't know about you. Which, at this point, should be just about anything."

I paused. "Well…what do you want to know?" I was not a great conversationalist. This much, I knew.

He shrugged. "What do you do? Work? Go to school? Are you secretly a masked superhero who flies around the world saving the world's population from evil aliens?"

My eyebrows flew up at his last suggestion, but I was able to play along a little. "Only on weekends and holidays," I answered with a genuine smile. "Um, but other than that, I'm a student. I go to UW in Seattle."

"Really? I live in Seattle. What're you studying?"

"American Literature." I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and I don't fail to notice his eyes following my fingers as I did so. "I'm thinking about becoming a journalist after I graduate. Or an English teacher."

"Impressive," he nodded. "What're you doing this summer? Internship?"

"Uh, not exactly. I'm…working for my dad, he needs a little help around the office." That wasn't technically a lie, right? Just a whole lot of omission. "And what do you do? Do _you_ fly around curing world hunger, or something?" I was enjoying our little exchange, I couldn't deny it.

"Hunger, no. And around the world, no. But I do-"

"Bella!" Alice appeared from thin air, trailed closely by Jasper. "What the hell are you guys doing over here? They're playing awesome music and you're both just standing here? Come on!" She grabbed my hand with surprising force and literally dragged me onto the dance floor. I shot an apologetic look at James, who shrugged and followed after us.

"Living on a Prayer" was blasting loud and proud from the speakers, and Alice was already rocking out to the guitar solo while Jasper stood by, looking kind of dazed. I turned to James and said hesitantly, "I have to warn you, I'm a pretty hazardous dancer. If you choose to bow out and keep your toes intact, I won't be offended."

He shook his head good-naturedly. "I'll take my chances. I'm not much of a dancer either, so at least we can be mediocre together." He grinned.

We were both awkward dancers, and I was unable to relax as much as I had before when it was just us girls. I settled for just sort of stepping from side to side, trying to keep my drink from spilling on myself or James. He mirrored me, and after the next song started ("I Love Rock and Roll" – this club was just too good to be true) Rose and Emmett had joined us. I was on my third Long Island by then, and was crossing the tenuous line between pleasantly buzzed and straight-up drunk.

"So, what did you say that you do for a living?" I practically yelled in James' ear.

"Oh, right," he nodded. "I'm a-"

And then, just beyond James' left shoulder, I saw something that made my blood turn to ice, despite the arid temperatures inside the club.

A head of thick, wild bronze hair flashed through the crowd, near the bar, and moved across the room. My heart raced; there was only one person I had ever seen with hair like that. And yes, it would be a monumental coincidence if Edward was here, in the same place, on the same night as me and my friends. But, crazier things have happened.

I realized James was still speaking, and although I'd caught absolutely none of what he had said I nodded anyway and said, "Oh, that's awesome." He could have been telling me he had terminal cancer with one week to live and everyone he'd ever known had died in a massive forest fire. All I could focus on was the man attached to that bronze hair.

I excused myself from the dance floor, citing bathroom needs, and hugged the wall as I made my way to where I'd last spotted him. Carefully I scanned the bar area for another sighting of him, and found none. Maybe I'd imagined it. I'd had plenty of booze, it was certainly possible.

My alcohol-riddled brain was trying to sort my fixation on finding Edward into two separate reasons. One was practical, and one was not. I tried to tell myself that it would be stupid to ignore the possibility he could be inside the club, because he was one of four people, including myself, who knew that I was extremely underage. If he saw me, if he recognized me, I would be toast.

The second reason was, oddly, much more powerful. I wanted to know if he was with a girl, and for that reason alone I went seeking out what I probably should have been avoiding.

I kept to the shadows, cautiously peeking around corners, taking out my phone and pretending to text so no one suspected me of being a creeper.

Finally, just as I was about to give up, I saw him. At the bar, talking intimately with someone. A girl. A girl with very long, very blonde hair. I couldn't see her well from my vantage point, but I could see the edge of her almost illegally short skirt. I watched, completely crestfallen, as she laid a well-manicured hand on his arm. He looked like a walking personification of sex itself – he wore a dark t-shirt that clung to his muscled arms and low-slung jeans. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear, and I watched her shoulders shake as she laughed.

"Hey, everything okay? You've been gone for like, fifteen minutes." I snapped my head to where James was standing incredibly close to me, so close I could smell the light sweat and cologne on his skin.

"Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. Just, y'know, taking a time out. Dancing's hard work." I tried to play it cool.

James slid a hand around my waist and whispered in my ear, "Well, what do you say you and I get out of here? Take a walk, get some air?" His hand came to rest on the small of my back, and my head spun a little. My third Long Island was empty, just down the ice, and I was having a hard time collecting my thoughts.

"Uh, I don't know. I should stick with Rose and Alice, they drove me," I replied weakly.

"I could drive you home," he whispered, pressing himself closer. My eyes flew open when I felt him against me, hard, and suddenly I did not want to be anywhere near him. My gaze ticked over to where Edward was standing with the bleach blonde and he chose that exact moment to glance up. Our eyes met, just for one split second, and I registered the confusion and then the recognition. I saw him set his jaw as he stared me down, and fury came over his face as he took in James practically dry-humping me into the wall. Edward slammed his beer bottle down onto the bar and made an angry beeline for us.

He reached us in less than a second, and his strong hand gripped James' arm, wrenching him away from me before I could say a word. "James!" he said in a too-loud, too-cheerful voice. "What's going on, buddy? I see you've met Bella! Isn't she a nice girl?" It was impossible to miss the dripping sarcasm in his voice. The muscles in his jaw clenched and I began to get a teeny bit nervous.

James snapped up, giving Edward a strange look. "'Sup, man? You know Bella, too?" He glanced at me, and then back at Edward, and I could hear the wheels in his head turning. "Hey, I didn't mean to step on anybody's toes, Ed, if you've already-"

I knew exactly what his next words were going to be. It was my turn to step in. "Um, no," I informed him very tersely. "That is absolutely not the case." I folded my arms defensively. My mind flickered back to when Emmett had mentioned that they had had a fourth to their party but didn't know where he was – it dawned on me that it must have been Edward. Small fucking world.

"Agreed," said Edward tensely. "Bella, can you and I have a word outside, please?" His eyes were blazing.

I offered James a grim smile before nodding and following Edward outside onto the patio. The air out here was cooler and less stuffy, but neither of those things did anything to quell Edward's furious temper. He paced back and forth twice before coming to a stop in front of me. "Bella, you could be in some serious fucking trouble right now if I do what I'm supposed to do, which is call this in and have your father come pick you up. But you know what's really fucked up about doing that? It's Charlie that would suffer for it, not you. You'd get a slap on the wrist, maybe lose your license or pay a fine. But your dad would be the one who'd have to explain why his daughter flouts the law and everybody else gets penalized for doing the exact same thing. Did you ever think of that?"

I hadn't, so I said nothing. In all honesty the booze was making it hard to piece together coherent thoughts, so it was probably better if I just stayed quiet anyway.

His hard stare bored straight through me. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he seemed to deliberate for a minute. "I can't let you stay, Bella. I can't just turn around and forget I saw you and continue on like nothing happened. If you got caught I'd lose my job. Who are you here with?"

"My friends, Rose and Alice. Don't worry, they're over. Seriously," I said icily as his eyebrows shot up.

"Tell them I'm taking you home. And before you start flipping out on me, remember that I could just call your dad and you can explain this whole shitshow to him yourself." Edward folded his arms and eyed me expectantly.

"Fine," I said quietly, defeated. What could I say at this point? Stick a fork in me, I was done. I pulled out my phone and began texting Rose, informing her I that I had a ride home and I needed to leave.

"Everything okay out here?" I glanced up to see James next to me, glancing suspiciously between Edward and I.

"Yeah, it's all good," Edward answered casually. I felt something tense pass between the two men, a sort of unspoken exchange that belied their otherwise friendly interactions.

"Well, then you don't mind if I steal her back, do you? Your friends have been asking where you ran off to," he said to me. He slid an arm around my shoulders, and it was impossible to miss the challenging look in his eyes as he gave Edward a cold smile. I began to get a clearer sense of the fragile relationship between he and Edward.

Edward's piercingly green eyes went narrow and sharp. "Actually, Bella and I were just leaving."

"How do you two know each other?" I blurted, confused.

"Seattle PD. We work together," James answered pleasantly. "Or, we did, at least. Edward here got himself in the quite the pickle and now he's been banished to the Twilight Zone until he proves he can be a good boy again. Right, Eddie?" He clapped a none-too-friendly hand on Edward's shoulder. "Tell you what, sweet cheeks. Tomorrow morning when you still haven't gotten your rocks off and you wish you'd woken up next to me instead, give me a call. Edward's got my number." He winked slyly.

I grimaced, appalled, and was about to launch a strongly-worded reply when I felt Edward's hand on my elbow. "We're leaving," Edward growled, grabbing my arm and leading me roughly away from James, back into the club and deafeningly loud bass. I had no choice but to let him drag me. As we passed the dance floor I craned my neck into the sea of gyrating bodies, but caught no glimpse of either Rose or Alice.

Once we were out the front door Edward seemed to relax a little, maybe satisfied that I wasn't going to bolt or try to attack him in view of several bouncers. "That guy is your _friend_?" I asked incredulously.

"Not really. Me and him and the other two we came with all went through the police academy together. He used to be decent, now he thinks he's fucking God. Why the fuck was he all up in your grill anyway? All he wanted to do was take you home with him, and then he'd fall off the face of the earth."

I shrugged, feeling a little naïve that I hadn't immediately suspected the same thing. "He was nice, I guess. And the other two kind of paired off with my two friends, so it just…made sense to talk to him."

"Emmett and Jasper are good people. And it works to James' advantage that they are – girls just assume he's like them, and it's how he gets them in bed. I've seen it more times than I can count. He only shows his true colors when things aren't going his way." He stopped in front of a silver Volvo and unlocked the doors. "Bella, I didn't mean to be a dick to you. But you really don't understand how one bad decision can lead to a lot of shitty consequences. Trust me, I know," Edward muttered.

I let out of a long breath as I slid into the passenger's seat. "It's okay," I conceded. "I wouldn't have gone home with him, you know. James. I'm not…I'm not that kind of girl." My voice was quiet as I confessed myself to him.

"I know," he replied as he inserted the key into the ignition. "Stubborn, a little obstinate, and recklessly unmindful of your own safety, but no, you are not That Kind of Girl." A tiny smile curls his lips, and I can't help but smile as well. The engine revved, and he pulled the car out of its parking space and onto the main drag of Port Angeles.

It occurred to me then that I had over an hour's drive to Forks. With Edward. Alone. The thought is both thrilling and dreadful. Then I glanced down the plunging neckline of Rosalie's top and realize that while my boobs looked fantastic, if Charlie was awakened when I got home he would hardly share the same opinion. I didn't have a wrap or a cardigan since it was nearly eighty degrees out. "Um, Edward?"

"Bella?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a t-shirt or a jacket or something that I can throw over this, would you? I have a funny feeling Charlie won't appreciate the eyeful, if he's up when I get home." I didn't think he would be, but it would be just my shitty luck if he was, watching late-night ESPN or something. It was only twelve-thirty.

"Yeah, I can see where he might have some issues with that. Let me see." He reached one long, sinewy arm behind my seat and rifled through some items on the backseat. "Here. It's clean, I think." He handed me a gray t-shirt, and I recognized it to be the Seattle U shirt that he wore on the day of the Memorial Day cookout. I took what I hoped to be an inconspicuous sniff, hopeful that if Edward saw me he would think I was just making sure it was clean.

I struggled to get the shirt over my head, wrestling the seat belt until it was covering my entire upper body. I squirmed a little as the silky top underneath clung to my skin from the light sweat I had worked up inside the club. The inside of the car was still stuffy even though the air conditioning was running full blast, and I felt myself grow uncomfortably warm. I slid a glance to my left. Edward was driving with one hand, the other running through his impossibly unruly hair, elbow braced against the window. I opened my mouth and blurted, "Look, I'm just gonna take off the top and put the t-shirt back on so just…keep your eyes on the road, okay?"

Edward's eyes widened before returning to normal and he sighed. "Uh, sure. Whatever."

Clumsily I pulled both shirts over my head, leaving me in just my navy blue bra. I separated the silvery top from the t-shirt and hurriedly pulled the gray shirt on, feeling painfully self-conscious the entire time. When I was finished I peeked over at Edward, who I noticed was now gripping the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white as snow. Inwardly I grinned; seems he wasn't as impervious as he tried to be. "All clear," I announced dryly.

He nodded, and his hand flicked the stereo on. Something acoustic and soothing flooded the car, and it wasn't long before my eyelids began to droop. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was Edward humming along to the soft guitar strains against the backdrop of a purring engine.

So? Heinous? Amazing? Share your thoughts with a feedback-hungry author


	3. The Wrong End of the Gun

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. The plot and original characters belong to me.

Author's Notes: So, I'm trying not to make the chapters as long – that last one, after the revisions, was a doozy. This way I'll be able to update more often, too. FYI: You're probably going to want to go back to Chapter 2 and re-read, because I was a bad bad author and basically rewrote the entire second half of that posting after I'd posted it the first time. I know, it's uncool, but this chapter won't make a ton of sense without that. So - forgive me, please! :)

This chapter is from Edward's POV and I have to tell you, it was a blast to write. I'm not sure how I'm going to go about changing the perspective going forward, so let me know what you think.

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Chapter 3. The Wrong End of the Gun

I cut the engine, both reluctantly and relieved as hell to get this girl out of my car. And by that I mean…away from me. Far away. The more time I spent in the car, next to her, so close I could run my fingers through her hair or caress her cheek, the more my willpower eroded. I needed to put some distance between us so I could remind myself why I couldn't go down that road with her. Why I couldn't go down _any_ road with her, ever.

"Bella, wake up. We're here," I announced as loudly as I dared, wincing at how my own voice shrilled in the silent car. She barely stirred. "Bella," I repeated a little louder. Nothing. Carefully, like I was about to dip my hand into a vat of acid, I grasped her shoulder in my hand and shook her gently. I didn't want to touch her. I didn't want to know what her skin felt like, or how soft her hair really was. Those things were just two more nails in the coffin.

Groggily her eyelids fluttered open. "Hmm?"

"You're home. Come on, I'll help you get out." I slid out of the driver's seat and around the car, opening hers carefully to her sleeping form. I sighed. In the time it had taken me to reach the passenger door she had conked out again. I took her hand firmly and tugged, eliciting a displeased whine from her but she complied somewhat as I got her to a standing position. Then she collapsed into my arms, eyes shut peacefully, and I realized that I was going to have to carry her to the door. Good God. All I wanted was to put miles and miles between Bella and I but somehow I just kept getting pushed closer and closer towards her.

Gently, I bent and slid an arm behind her slender knees. I couldn't have been more careful if I was handling a nuclear warhead as I scooped her up, amazed at how weightless she was, and made my way to her front stoop. Her face nestled itself cozily against my chest and again I was assaulted with the scent of her hair – I swore somewhere planets were aligning and stars were crossing, arranging my untimely demise.

I managed to get her to the top of her porch stars without incident, and I set her down to rummage through her purse for keys. Charlie definitely wouldn't be the type to leave his front door open. I dug through her tiny purse-wallet-thing for a full two minutes, finding her ID (definitely underage), some cash, a Chapstick, and her phone. No keys.

Bella had settled herself into a sitting position on the narrow porch, her upper body propped against the front door and snoozing away. I kneeled down to her and shook her gently. "Bella, does your dad leave spare keys outside anywhere?"

Without even opening her eyes, she shook her head.

Shit. I didn't want to be That Guy and wake Charlie in the middle of the night to come downstairs and let his drunk nineteen-year-old daughter inside. He had enough on his plate without adding this on, and contrary to what Bella might think, I wasn't out to get her. What I'd really wanted was to drop her off without anybody knowing and we all could go about our business like nothing happened. Now it looked like that was totally out the window.

"Okay. There's no chance any of these doors are unlocked, right?" I wanted to jiggle the knob but just in case Charlie had some state-of-the-art alarm system rigged I hesitated.

Bella mumbled something then that sounded like, "my dad's a cop, what the hell do you think?" I rolled my eyes. Even drunk and barely conscious she had bite.

I had a decision to make. Either I could drag Charlie out of bed and let him handle the situation, which wouldn't end well for Bella or potentially for me, either, since I knew Charlie wasn't exactly my biggest fan. Showing up in the middle of the night with his unconscious daughter, no matter how feasible my story, was sure to raise some red flags. I mean, hell, I barely knew the man, so he could either be really grateful or really pissed. I was betting on the latter.

I knew that it was impossible that Bella had gone out by herself, so I could try to locate her friends and hand her off to them. I didn't know any of their names, but if I went through her phone and text messages and tried to piece together who she'd been with then maybe…oh, fuck me. I wasn't doing that. I already felt like enough of a creeper having spotted her practically when she walked in the door of the club, and staring at her the entire fucking night. She looked…hot. Beyond hot. I mean, she was beautiful in everyday life, in a fresh, girl-next-door sort of way that made me feel like a fifteen-year-old boy with pimples and headgear every time she came near me. But tonight, seeing her look so subtly sexy sent every hormone I had into overdrive. She was stunning, leaps and bounds above the other chicks that squeezed themselves into skimpy outfits and piled on makeup like battle armor. I avoided her as much as I could while keeping her in my line of vision. It wasn't until I caught James leering over her like a vulture that I finally made contact, even though I knew she was underage. It was just...her top, and the way it dipped to show a little bit of what I had countless dirty dreams of…trust me, it was better I kept my distance unless I absolutely had to intervene.

So, like I was saying. I was definitely not going to go through her phone. Having no option besides her house narrowed my choices considerably. And I could not, under any circumstances, just leave her here. Which left one place that I could guarantee that she would be safe and cared for. And, coincidentally, the last place on earth I wanted to take her.

My house.

Well, it wasn't technically mine – I was renting it from my uncle while I fulfilled my stint in Forks. He and his family only used it in summers but they were spending this one on Lake Tahoe.

But as I took stock of the situation – wasted Bella, locked house, ungodly hour of the night, angry father/boss – I decided that taking her back to my place was the only option I had that didn't involve abandoning her or potentially losing my reproductive organs to her dad's shotgun.

Before I could overthink my decision and increase the likelihood Charlie would hear something and march downstairs with with his bathrobe and a firearm, I scooped Bella back into my arms. I made quick work of strapping her back into the passenger's seat and backed quietly out of her driveway, praying I wouldn't regret this decision.

By the time we reached my house, Bella was certifiably passed out. I didn't worry too much about jostling her as I carried her through my front door and into the guest bedroom, depositing her gently on the pale blue bedspread. She still wore just my t-shirt and black leggings. I had taken the liberty of removing her shoes by the door.

I stared down at her, taking in how stirringly beautiful she was as she slept. I was indulging myself and I knew it, since if everything proceeded the way it was supposed to I would never get this opportunity again. She'd meet some boy at college, start a career, get married, maybe throw a couple of kids in there, too. A nice, sunny life was in store for Bella Swan.

I reached down and fingered one ringlet of her chocolate-brown curls. It was impossibly soft, and silky, but the strands themselves were thick and resilient. Not completely unlike their owner. I was struck then with a surge of terror – I was feeling things for this beautiful, innocent girl that I should never have allowed myself to feel for a whole slew of reasons. I could sense it, an invisible hand pushing me down a road that would only drive me closer to decimating whatever remains of a life that I had left.

I knew Bella had some kind of weird fixation on me. When I was at the station I could see her out of the corner of my eye, sizing me up, trying to figure me out. I wasn't stupid – I knew that some part of that curiosity was attraction, because I felt it too. God, did I feel it. But it was different than the lustful, hungry stares I got from women when I was out at a bar, or even from the ones I pulled over on the highway. What was passing between Bella and I was like a live wire, crackling and sizzling, and once it made contact it would explode like Fourth of July fireworks. It was taking more and more willpower every day to resist the temptation to find out exactly what that would be like.

I couldn't, though. My career depended on me being able to suffer through my time in Forks until my superiors thought I had calmed down enough to return to Seattle. And a lot of that decision was going to be based on Charlie Swan's report of my performance. It was probably a safe bet that getting friendly with his only daughter wasn't going to be do me any favors. To be honest? I wouldn't want my little girl within a ten-mile radius of me, either.

Once I could tear myself away from Bella's side, I retrieved her purse from the front seat of my car and deposited it on the nightstand next to her. She had snuggled herself into the pillows and looked for all the world like she had peacefully drifted off after finishing a chapter of her favorite book. I realized then that I felt…protective of her, but not in a fatherly sort of way. I was a little more selfish than that.

Suddenly exhausted, I trudged down the hallway into the master bedroom and collapsed on my bed, not bothering to do anything besides pull my shirt over my head and drop my jeans to the floor. I hoped for an easy, dreamless sleep, because it had been a long night and it was going to be an even longer day tomorrow.

The morning sun (or, in Forks, the meager light that makes it past the impenetrable cloud cover) streamed through my windows, confirming that it was indeed a new day. I rolled over and burrowed my face into the pillow, unwilling to separate myself from what turned out to be a decent night's sleep. My eyes flew open, though, when the shrill sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. A high-pitched shriek pierced the air directly after.

In less than the blink of an eye I was upright and fully alert. I threw open the bottom drawer of my nightstand and retrieved the loaded pistol I kept there for emergencies. I had no idea what was happening, but it always, always paid to be prepared.

I ran down the hall as quietly as I could and paused at the corner where it opened up into the kitchen. "Bella?" I asked cautiously, tipping off whoever it was that yes, someone was home, but not acknowledging that any alarm had been raised. It was one of the first things that had been drilled into my head in the police academy – don't escalate the situation unless absolutely necessary. A version of the "walk softly, but carry a loaded 9-millimeter" policy.

"Edward?" Bella's voice carried from around the corner. "Is that you?"

I relaxed just the tiniest bit – her voice was confused and more than a little surprised, not scared or upset. I peeked in, and was aghast when I saw her standing upright, blood pouring down her left arm, holding what looked to be a broken coffee carafe.

"Bella!" I rushed in, skidding a little when she held her good arm out in a halting gesture. I stopped short, noticing the pieces of what used to be my coffeepot shattered all over the tile.

"Don't!" she cried. "There's…there's glass. I was trying to reach the coffeepot but I slipped, and it fell, and I fell, and now…" She shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Don't apologize. I don't care about the pot. Your arm, though. We need to get the bleeding stopped." She nodded. I was more than a little frantic when I took in the amount of blood spattered on the tile and the cupboards. I prayed she hadn't cut an artery or we'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble than I thought.

Glass surrounded her on all sides and blood was rapidly dripping down her slender arm. And, of course, she was barefoot. I tossed the pistol on the counter, ran to the hall closet and grabbed a towel. Blue, not white – seeing the blood in such stark contrast has been known to make people faint. I tossed the towel to her and she immediately held it against the crook of her arm, looking a little more relieved. "Don't move," I instructed her. I crossed the house to the front closet to pull the vacuum out, and proceeded to remove all of the broken glass from the floor. The blood remained, but I would worry about that later. Bella stood in the middle of it all, clutching the towel to her arm firmly.

When I was finished I left the vacuum in the middle of the kitchen and led a slightly dazed Bella to the kitchen table. "Let me see your arm," I said gently.

She sat and gingerly laid her cut arm on the table. I lifted the towel carefully to check the bleeding, and it appeared to have slowed considerably. I got up and wet a few dishtowels with warm water to clean the area around the cut. She only winced a little as I meticulously wiped the blood away and checked for glass lodged in the cut. It turned out to be three different lacerations, all shallow, but together they were enough to produce an alarming amount of blood. A few band-aids later, and she was almost as good as new. I let out a relieved sigh when I was done. "Well, it doesn't look like you're gonna need stitches, so that's good. You doing okay?"

Bella nodded wearily. "Yeah. I'm fine, really. It's just…I'm not a blood person." She gave me a small smile.

I returned it with a chuckle. "Well, hopefully you never have enough of an acquaintance with it to feel differently." My hand was still holding her forearm. I realized this and jerked it away abruptly.

"I'm sorry about your coffeepot. I should have waited until you got up. It's just…I didn't know where I was…and after I figured it out I didn't want to wake you up in case you were, y'know. _Indisposed_." The way she emphasized that last word made me laugh out loud. She smirked a little, with one eyebrow raised.

"Indisposed?" I gasped incredulously. "What, you mean like, naked? Drooling? Curled up with my blankie and teddy bear?"

Bella squirmed a little, drawing her knees up against her chest. I noticed she was still wearing my t-shirt, and she managed to make it look both sexy and endearing at the same time. "I don't know! You might have had…a friend over, for all I knew. I didn't want to walk in on you doing the deed with your girlfriend or fuck buddy or God knows who…" Her eyes seemed to dart everywhere but at me. She tucked a strand of her softly waved hair behind her ear.

My heart sank at hearing this and I couldn't place why. I shook my head with resignation. "Bella, no. Nobody came home with me last night except for you." I realized as soon as the words were out of my mouth how they sounded, and quickly tried to backtrack. "I-I mean, nothing happened, you were asleep and I tried to bring you home but you didn't have any keys and so I brought you back here. With me, but you slept alone. Trust me." I mentally smacked myself. I was typically a man of few words, and it was obviously better that way.

An amused smile crossed her face, which was now looking more like she just woke up and less like she'd just come close to severing a limb. "I believe you, don't worry. I know you'd never…try anything." Her deep, mahogany-brown eyes connected with mine then, and for a terrifying second I thought she could see right through me. That she knew how close I'd come on several different occasions to just giving in to my impulses and making it unmistakably clear to her that I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything in my entire life.

But her eyes left mine without incident and wandered along the walls of the open dining room and living room behind me. I was simultaneously relieved and sorely disappointed. Her eyes caught sight of my trusty nine-mil resting innocuously on the kitchen island and she raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me that was under your pillow," she said dryly.

"No," I responded somewhat defensively. "I'm not that paranoid. I keep it…in my night table." The words came out sheepish and by her skeptical look I could tell that that wasn't much better than what she originally assumed.

"Right," she added with good-natured incredulity. "Well, I'm assuming since I'm here and not locked in a holding cell that my dad doesn't know about…last night?"

I nodded. I decided then that all Bella needed to know was that I dragged her out of that bar because she was underage and she was putting her father in a bad position if she was caught. Better me than somebody who wouldn't think twice about tossing her in a drunk tank and calling her dad. As far as her encounter with James, I just wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt. Injecting my real reason for my actions wouldn't do us any good.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome." I caught sight of the digital clock on the stove behind her, and noticed it was nearly ten. I stood abruptly. "I should be getting you back soon. I don't want anyone to start asking questions."

"Oh. Right." Bella stood as well, cradling her cut arm to her chest. I hated that she looked so vulnerable, and the crestfallen way she padded to the guest bedroom. Like she was waiting for me to admit what was hovering between us – somewhere between the words that were said and those that weren't was the truth. And then for sure I knew that I wasn't fooling anyone.

As I drove her back to into town to her friend's house I didn't attempt any conversation, and she kept to herself except to point out where to turn. The tension was heavy, and it took all of my energy to just shut my mind down to autopilot so I could function like a normal person around Bella.

She directed me to an address just inside the town. As I pulled in the unusally long driveway I noticed the immaculately manicured lawn and landscaping. The house that loomed at the end looked like something out of MTV Cribs or Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous – sprawling, magnificent and clearly very well cared for. I shot Bella a perplexed look; was Forks secretly harboring a Hilton sister or something?

"Rosalie Hale," she said somewhat apologetically. I raised my eyebrows – was that name supposed to mean something to me? "Friend from high school. Her dad's a…um, actually, I have no idea what her dad does, but obviously he's the breadwinner of the family." She smirked.

"Clearly," I replied dryly. I spotted Bella's ancient piece of scrap metal parked alongside the driveway. It looked horrifically out of place among the resplendence of her friend's home. I took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, I guess this is-"

"Edward." My name, clear as a bell, rolled off of her lips with a slight urgency. "I know I keep saying this, but…thanks."

Trying to maintain a cool façade, I simply nodded. "Don't mention it. Like, really, Bella. Don't tell anyone." I gave her a small, regretful smile.

We locked eyes for a moment before she reached for the door handle. I swore I saw a gleam flash through hers as she murmured, "Your secret's safe with me." Before I could react she was slamming the door shut and weaving her way between the cars parked in front of the house.

It was there, in Rosalie Hale's driveway, that I had an epiphany.

Bella Swan had me by the balls. I was a goner.

After spending my weekend mostly in a daze, I showed up at the station at just before three o'clock to work the evening shift. I checked the roster and I was posted at the station the entire night. I swore under my breath; this meant boredom on top of boredom with a side of boredom. I was used to my job being so fast-paced I barely knew what was happening most of the time. Nothing against any of the officers who chose to work in places like this, but I was going insane.

Out of my corner of my eye I saw Bella standing at the reception desk, on the phone and typing away at the computer. She wore a dark green t-shirt and jeans, and her hair was back to its normal waviness. From what I could see, she wore very little makeup. She looked more like herself – more like the Bella I was used to seeing, at least. I compared her in my mind's eye to the more sultry, grown-up version I encountered Friday night and decided I liked them both. A lot.

I passed by Charlie's office, waving hello through the frosted-glass door which was slightly ajar. He glanced up, and when he saw me he gestured to me to come in. "Edward!"

The blood froze in my veins and instantly a million worst-case scenarios, all ending with me unemployed and missing my reproductive organs, ran through my mind. I cautiously entered Charlie's office, doing everything in my power to keep my face neutral and unincriminating. "Chief?" I addressed him casually.

He let out a short sigh and pointed to the chair facing his desk, opposite him. "Have a seat."

The part of my brain that wanted to break down and panic was running wildly around, telling me to just spill the beans and get it over with and maybe he'd be merciful. I swallowed hard and squelched that tiny voice as I sat uneasily. Charlie leaned forward in his desk chair and regarded me with his dark eyes. "How's everything going? You have a good weekend?"

Mouth was dry. Heart pounding. Vertigo was next. "Fine, sir. Weekend was nothing special." And if he bought that one, I had a bridge I could sell him…

"Good. Good to hear. I just wanted to catch up with you for a minute about your time here. Now, it's not my style to get involved in my deputies lives' – what you do on your time is your business. But you're a slightly different case. I've been in contact with your superior officers back in Seattle and they want to know how you've been doing. And what I've been telling them is the same thing you just told me – fine. I just wanna make sure that that's actually the case." He sat back in his chair a little, and some of my panic began to subside. So this wasn't an interrogation. Just a…status update.

I fumbled for words as my brain began to process the false alarm. "I'm okay, sir," I answered as evenly as I could. "It's been an…adjustment, but that's to be expected, I guess. Doing my job here is a complete one-eighty from doing my job in Seattle. Overall I'd say I'm on the up and up, though. I've been sleeping better, at least."

"Have you been going to the counseling appointments?"

The question hit me right in the gut. I said nothing, because I didn't want to lie and I had no excuse. "Those aren't optional, Edward. They're part of the agreement that you accepted in order to keep your job. You need to be showing up – I don't care if you just sit there for the hour and talk about the weather, it's all confidential and whatever anyway." The tone in Charlie's voice told me that he wasn't exactly a believer in the healing power of talk therapy. "My point being, you're doing fine in every other aspect. You're getting the job done and I'm not seeing any of the problems reported a few months ago. I don't want to see you held back because of something stupid like that."

I nodded affirmatively. "Yes, sir."

Charlie got up from his desk and briskly crossed the small office to shut the door. "Off the record, son, I think you're a good cop. More than good cop – a great one. And I'll be honest with you, if what happened to you had happened to me, I probably would've had to answer for a lot more than just a couple of brutality charges. I would've made the bastard pay. Sometimes I don't agree with how the system works and I'm sure you'd agree with that on some level. But you're a terrific cop and you've got a long and successful career ahead of you. Once in a while you've got to let the bureaucracy work itself out, you know? Look at the big picture."

I absorbed his words thoughtfully. He had a good point – maybe the reasons for putting me through this quasi-rehab program were flimsy but if that's what it took to get things back on track then that's what I had to do. "I understand. Thanks, Chief."

"You can call me Charlie, you know. Everybody here's good, respectful people, and I don't see the need for all that formal bullshit." Hearing gruff, awkward Charlie swear made me crack a smile despite myself. I liked the man – it seemed like we were similar in a lot of ways and I appreciated his candor with me when another chief of police might have just written me off. But then guilt crept into the sides of my conscience as I added in the fact that I was infatuated with his daughter. I felt ashamed for even daring to look him in the eye. "Look, Edward, I just met you last month, but I'm a good reader of people and you can bet your ass I wouldn't bother with you if I thought you were ruined for life. You just got to make the best of things, and use this time to clear your head or something. Just don't clear it so much that you empty the whole damn thing out." He gave me a crooked smile, and I couldn't help but grin back. It was strange, sitting here with gruff, grumpy Charlie Swan, talking like we were sitting at a bar throwing back a couple brews. But I felt more connected to my job than I had in a long time, and began to remember some of the reasons why I joined the force in the first place.

I left his office a minute later, and I felt like my thoughts were a little less jumbled than they had been in recent days – months, even. I felt more awake, and more focused, and most surprisingly, hopeful. It was tiny and flickering, but it was there. Maybe there was still a chance I could claw my way out of the seemingly bottomless pit I had thrown myself into.

I sat myself at the desk nearest to the windows. I had two supporting depositions to write for speeding tickets I had issued a few weeks ago. I knew that motorists liked to gamble on the assumption that I wouldn't bother to follow through – that I had better things to do than write a play-by-play of the incident. The ticket would be thrown out and they could celebrate that they cheated the system. Alas, I knew better. In Forks, there really, truly, was nothing else on my plate. It was almost aggravating sometimes, the lack of activity. In Seattle I was a member of a highly regarded tactical unit that responded mostly to high-tension situations – a place that the rest of the department vied for. Now, if I put my flashers on once a shift I considered that a busy night.

I had to give the other Forks officers a lot of credit, because they knew their town was Smalltown, USA and they were probably not going to be part of a major standoff or a catastrophic mass-murder (knock on wood, of course). They weren't doing their jobs for recognition or prestige and they definitely didn't have the "Cops" theme running through their heads. They did it for the people. They took care of their own and there was a sense of community here that I admired.

I glanced up from the blank page in front of me just in time to see Bella, who was standing at the reception desk, bend over and retrieve a stack of file folders from a drawer. The view of her slender legs and rounded ass was spectacular, and my throat suddenly went dry. My thoughts raced back to Friday night when she had sat in my car and changed her top, putting my t-shirt on in place of her shirt. I had tried to be decent and keep my eyes firmly planted on the road, but I'd given in and snuck a peek of her in just a bra. And that, ladies and gentlemen, will be burned in my brain until the day I croak, because it was that fucking magnificent. Her breasts, small but round and full, encased in blue lace that covered just little enough to make me imagine what her nipples looked like. The way her waist tapered in to her hips, with just enough curve. And that top, now that I thought of it, was still tossed on my backseat. It probably still smelled like her, too…

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, to bring myself back to Earth. Just those memories had made me harder than wrought iron. I readjusted myself as inconspicuously as possible and tried to focus on my deposition. Okay. So. It was about eleven-thirty AM on June 14–

A slight whoosh of air brushed by me, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of strawberries and vanilla and something unidentifiable but intoxicating nonetheless. Bella was retrieving something from a filing cabinet directly behind me. I glanced up as she passed by, and she smiled, a secret smile that conveyed all sorts of things that only served to distract me more. My eyes tracked her like a homing beacon as she walked briskly back to the reception desk. God, that girl did not know what she did to me. Or, maybe she did, and she was deliberately trying to drive me insane. I scrubbed a hand roughly over my face and tried to force my mind back somewhere G-rated. So, June 14. Driver was seen traveling down Route–

Bella's soft, tinkling laugh broke through my fragile concentration. I gritted my teeth and tried to force myself to keep writing, but when I heard a male voice respond to hers I couldn't stop myself from picking my head up. What I saw was probably completely innocuous but it made my blood boil regardless. A kid, not any older than Bella, was leaning with his forearms on the reception desk, chatting with her and smiling. I didn't like it. Whatever part of my brain that was irrationally and obsessively infatuated with Bella was screaming _Mine! Mine!_

My feet seemed to move of their own volition. In less than three seconds I was standing beside Bella, my eyes hard, fists balled up at my sides. "Something I can help you with?" I forced out of my mouth, my voice strained.

The kid, a gangly thing with a mop of sandy blonde hair and a bright blue polo shirt on, instantly backed off of Bella and jammed his hands in his pockets. His eyes grew wide upon seeing me and the intimidation was written all over his face. "Uh, I–"

"What's that, son? Speak up, I can't hear you." I was in full-on interrogation mode. My eyes never left his now-terrified face and my voice was strong and imposing.

Bella shot me a strange look and cut into our tense exchange. "Edward? This is Tyler Crowley. We went to high school together. He's here because his car got broken into at the diner. Someone stole his GPS." She said this slowly and deliberately, like she was speaking to a toddler. "Do you want to file a report for him? You know what – nevermind. I'll get somebody else to do it." She looked at me witheringly, and turned back to Tyler. "Just have a seat for now. I'll get my dad to come out and take your statements."

She disappeared into Charlie's office without another word. I stood uselessly in my spot, still staring down Tyler who had sat down in the farthest chair from the desk. He didn't dare meet my eyes. I stalked slowly back to my desk and glanced down at my barely-started deposition, and only then did the absurdity of my actions hit me. What the hell was I thinking?

Charlie emerged from his office and gestured to Tyler to follow him back in. Tyler skittered from his seat through the frosted-glass door, clearly relieved to be out of my line of vision. Bella slipped through the door and fixed me with a murderous glare that would have melted the North Pole. She made a beeline for me and stopped just short of my desk. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me out of my chair roughly, leading me into the hallway which led to the holding cells. "Explain to me what the hell you think you're doing getting in that kid's face," she hissed in a loud, harsh whisper. Her eyes were blazing.

"I'm sorry, is your name Chief Swan?" I fired back. "I don't have to justify anything to you, for your information. How I do my job is none of your goddamn business."

Bella went on like she didn't even hear me. "Oh, so you think you can run this place like a fucking prison camp and nobody's gonna say anything to you? Maybe that's what it's like in Seattle or South Compton or whatever but that shit's not gonna fly around here. My dad actually respects the people who live in Forks. You can't treat them like scum or you're gonna have to answer to him about it." She folded her arms defensively across her chest. "What the hell did Tyler do to you, anyway? You stormed over like he was on America's Most Wanted."

I froze, fumbling for words. "I-I thought…I didn't…he looked like he–"

Bella rolled her eyes impatiently. "What, Edward? Jesus Christ, will you just spit it out already?"

"I didn't like the way he was looking at you!" I burst suddenly, the words physically painful as they left my lips. I cringed inwardly as soon as I realized that the cat was finally out of the bag. She knew. Had she always known? The expression on her face morphed from furious to shocked, and I realized then that she had had no idea how I felt about her. Until now, of course. I wished I could suck the words back into my mouth but it was too late. And now I would have to deal with the consequences of my untimely admission.

"What…did you say?" Bella's voice was small and completely disbelieving. She stared at me like I had sprouted a second head, her eyes searching mine for confirmation.

I gulped. I had set this train down on its tracks and now it was barreling toward me at full speed. It was far too late to do anything but let it take its course. I closed my eyes and said, as quietly as I could, what I'd been hiding for the past six weeks. "You heard me, Bella Swan. I didn't like how he was looking at you. And…I didn't like it because…I want to be the only person who looks at you that way." I opened my eyes to meet her wide, chocolate brown ones. "I'm tired of trying to pretend that I don't spend every minute of my day thinking about you. I'm sick of trying to treat you like a little sister or a friend. I can't do it anymore. I'm so attracted to you I can't think straight."

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Ah, don't we all love a cliffhanger? Let me know what you think of this chapter…


	4. The Fork in the Road

**Disclaimer: I don't own jack. Well, maybe I do. But Twilight definitely does not fall under that category.**

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Chapter 4. The Fork in the Road

The moments after I admitted my feelings for Bella felt like hours. They stretched, one after the other, until I was convinced that she wasn't going to say a word in response. She was going to turn on her heel and walk away, leaving me alone and embarrassed at my untimely, impromptu outburst. She would tell her father that I was a creeper with an unhealthy fixation on cops' daughters and he would send my ass packing. Back to Seattle. Jobless. I was actually beginning to sweat.

Suddenly, Charlie's head poked around the corner and I came within a hair's width of straight up passing out. "You two playing nice, or do I have to separate you kids? One of the other guys said it sounded like you were having it out back here. Everything all right?" He glanced back and forth between us, the tone of his voice indicating that if everything wasn't kosher, it better be now. Bella's arms were still folded across her chest and I was leaning back against the cold brick wall, so for all intents and purposes we looked like we had been arguing.

Bella held my gaze for one tense second before nodding to her father. "Everything's fine, Dad. I was just giving Edward an etiquette lesson on how to win friends and influence people, Forks-style."

Charlie seemed satisfied by this and swung his attention over to me. "Seems you did give the Crowley boy a thing or two to think about, Edward. Kid was shaking like a leaf the whole time I was taking his report. Save the shock-and-awe tactics for somebody who actually did something wrong, all right?"

"Of course. Don't know what got into me. Won't happen again, sir." I controlled my voice carefully to keep out any trace of the maelstrom of emotion swirling inside me.

He clapped his hand twice on the wall, signaling that the powwow was over. I followed him as he disappeared around the corner. I didn't know if Bella was behind me or not; the spongy sound of her flipflops would have been swallowed up in the flurry of activity that had sprung up while we were gone. Two of the officers who had gone out on road patrol were back, and they had in tow a rowdy, middle-aged man who was flailing around like a fish out of water. He was hollering something completely unintelligible. As they escorted him past me with no small amount of difficulty, the stench of whiskey and gunpowder overwhelmed me. "What the-"

"Ben McGarrity," Charlie supplied for me. "Sits on his front porch shooting rats that run out from underneath with his pistol. Shot his neighbor's cat on accident – or so he says. She's hysterical, wants to press charges." Charlie shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?" I questioned skeptically. Sometimes I honestly wondered if Forks was even a real town and not a fifties' sitcom.

He sighed. "Gun was unregistered and he doesn't have a pistol permit. If it wasn't for that, it'd just be destruction of property. Old lady's got so many cats she wouldn't even have known that one was missing if it weren't for the gunshots." He shook his head. "Take Scott and Mike's place on the road, will you? Those two are gonna be tied up with Benny there for awhile."

"Yes, sir." I retrieved the cruiser key from its lockbox on the wall. It didn't escape me that Bella was standing at the reception desk, watching me intently out of the corner of her eye. I did my best to ignore her as I marched purposefully out the main door and into the suffocating heat of the day.

I did a quick patrol of the main drag through town and the surrounding sidestreets. I checked in at four o'clock with dispatcher, noting my location, just like I was supposed to. At four thirty-seven, I pulled over a green Civic with a hideous aluminum spoiler bolted to the trunk like a satellite dish for going forty in a twenty-five, right in front of the elementary school. The long-faced, stringy-haired teenager inside protested that he thought that speed limit only applied during the school year, to which I succinctly informed him that was not the case. Along with a citation for too-dark tint on his windows, I sent him along with just a warning for the speeding violation. I was feeling less aggressive than usual. Strange, given that I was one conversation away from having my ass handed to me by not one, but two separate police departments. Fucking awesome.

I took to parking my cruiser in a small clearing between two thick groves of pines – the perfect hiding spot for unsuspecting traffic violators. I radioed my location back to the dispatch office. At four fifty-five, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and noted Emmett's name on the caller ID.

"Cullen!" His booming voice caused me to jerk the phone from my ear, wincing. Emmett was the only person I worked with in Seattle that still acted like I was one of the guys, even after the…incident. The rest of the department had regarded me like I was a ticking time bomb, walking on eggshells around me like I would snap and strangle them with my bare hands. Emmett, though, still invited me out for beers even when I would turn him down three times in a row, and insisted we watch Seahawks games at my place. He kept me from being a complete loner after things had turned upside down. Him and Jasper both. Jasper was just much quieter about it.

"How can I help you, Mr. McCarty?" I said dryly, gingerly touching my ear and checking for blood.

"What are you doing, man?"

"Sitting in a ninety-degree cruiser in a puddle of my own sweat, hoping there'll be a lightning storm and I'll die in a fiery blaze. You?"

"Same. Except over here it's actually thundering and lightning, so maybe you and I should trade places."

I groaned. "Trust me, man, you don't want any part of Forks. It's so boring it physically hurts."

"Well, my man, I can tell you from personal experience that the scenery in that podunk town is top-notch. Definitely worth the drive, if you ask me." The mischievous tone to his voice indicated that he wasn't referring to the evergreens.

"Meaning?" I began to worry that somehow, telepathically, he found out about Bella.

"Come now, Edward," he said in a fake haughty voice. "Hast thou finished high school?" He snickered, and I reminded myself that Emmett was, emotionally, all of twelve years old. "What the hell do you think I'm talking about? I met this girl Friday night, and she said she was from Forks. Holy shit, man, she's grade A cream of the crop legit hottie. A-mazing. Blonde hair, legs up to her chin, ass like-"

"All right, I don't need a fucking diagram," I cut in tiredly. "She was hot. So you took her home, then?"

The line went silent. It lasted for so long that I thought the call had been dropped, and I had to check my phone to make sure we were still connected. "Emmett?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm still here." His voice had a lot less bravado in it.

"So…you never answered. Did you sleep with her?" Hesitation on Emmett's part only meant one thing – denied with a capital D.

"Aw, shit, Edward. I don't know. I bought her drinks all night, danced with her, followed her around like a lost freaking puppy. Last call came up, I got her all the way to my car…I thought I was home free, right? And then she turns around and tells me that if I thought I was gonna get in her panties that easy then I was dumber than I looked." He paused dramatically. "Dude, I think I'm in love."

I was about to spit back a smartass comment about Emmett's intelligence and him being a glutton for punishment, but I heard the loud pop of a car backfiring from several yards away. My eyes snapped forward, onto the roadway where I saw the familiar lumbering of an ancient Chevy pickup, once painted fire-engine red but faded to the color of an ripening tomato. My heart dropped into my stomach as the truck rolled up next to mine, coming to a stop with its driver side window not even a foot from mine. I didn't have to look to know who the driver was.

"Em, I gotta go," I said distantly, my mind already a million miles from the conversation. "I'll call you when I take my lunch."

"What? I was just getting started–" he began, dismayed.

"I know," I said pointedly. "We'll get caught up later." With that I snapped my phone shut and returned it to my pocket.

A knock on the passenger's side window instantly drew my attention and my neck audibly snapped as I whipped my head to the right. Bella was peering in through the tinted glass. How did she know I was here? And then I remembered – the radios. She heard me check in with dispatch. I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified to realize that she had sought me out, come looking for me of her own volition.

I rolled the window down and the stifling humidity came floating in, depleting what was left of my air conditioning. "Can I help you?" I asked mildly, my face betraying none of my anxiety.

"I don't know. Can you?" she quipped, her long, curling hair falling around her face like a curtain. She bent down to meet my eyes, and leaned forward just a bit, giving me just the tiniest glimpse down her shirt. Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph. I gulped and tried to keep my eyes focused on hers.

"Depends on what you're looking for," I replied absently.

She grabbed the door handle and pulled, swinging it wide open. Climbing onto the front seat, she folded her arms across her chest and stared out of the windshield. Without looking at me, she said, "Answers, maybe. Think you can handle that?"

I said nothing for a long time, choosing instead to examine the looming storm clouds coming in from the east. Looked like the monsoon Emmett was talking about in Seattle would be here soon. "I don't know what you want from me, Bella." It was a stupid, evasive thing to say, but there was a big part of me that wanted to keep my and Bella's lives from becoming too intertwined. The part of me that remembered my volatile and uncontrollable temper, the relationships I'd ruined by bringing my job home with me, the terrible decision I had made that had ripped one family apart. The part that knew I deserved the guilt and the nightmares insisted that I leave an innocent bystander out of the cesspool that was my life – the way I hadn't before.

Bella's eyes flashed anger and she turned her entire body so she was facing me then. "So, what, you take the whole thing back, then? Jesus, Edward. You can't say that to me and expect me not to…not when…nevermind," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

I had no idea what she was trying to say with that last thought, but I felt I needed to clarify something. "I'm not retracting…what I said," I forced out. "I wouldn't do that. Look, it's probably just better if we forget that it happened anyway, okay? Let me maintain some shred of dignity." I was redefining the term "bumbling idiot" in many new and creative ways.

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you ashamed…of me? Of having feelings for me?" Anxiety tinged her voice and I groaned. She was taking this totally the wrong way.

Exasperated, I rubbed my hand roughly across my face. The radio scanner crackled with scratchy voices, but I barely heard them. "That's not it at all. It's a little awkward, though, because in case you hadn't noticed, Bella, I haven't exactly gotten a resounding affirmation from you that you feel the same way. So excuse me if I'm a little gun-shy. No pun intended."

Her next words came out a little choked. "You mean you don't know?" The shy smile that curved her perfect lips tugged at my heart. "I always thought it was written all over my face. I was so terrified that you'd take one look at me and figure it out."

Now it was my turn to stare. "Really?" It terrified me that this petite, beautiful girl could make me feel like a gangly fifteen-year-old with braces and a bowl haircut all over again. Sitting inches from her, hearing her profess that she felt the same magnetic attraction to me that I did to her…I wasn't Edward the cop, or Edward the failure. I was just Edward. She saw through me like I was made of glass and none of my carefully constructed defenses worked against her.

As I let myself get lost in her chocolate-brown eyes, I realized I just didn't care.

"Really," she confirmed. It didn't escape me that she had scooted just a little closer to me, her face now only inches from mine. The damn computer console still forced a good foot of space between our bodies, but I was actually a little grateful. If she could get any closer I felt like I would lose my mind, her effect on me was that strong.

I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. My mind seemed like it was separating from my body, and yet I had never been more aware of how my heart was pounding and the oxygen was being sucked from my lungs. She was leaning in towards me, and my head was inclined to hers. Not even an inch was between my parted lips and her rosebud-pink ones. It occurred to me wildly that if things were this electric now, before we kissed, touched, anything – if we ever were to…Jesus, I couldn't let myself think about that now.

Bella's long lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, and in the softest whisper she asked, "Will you kiss me?"

I contemplated the consequences of crossing this bridge with Bella for approximately one nanosecond before I closed the miniscule gap between us, meeting her lips in what was hands-down the most incredible kiss of my life. It was like someone had flipped a switch and we were lit up like Times Square on New Year's Eve. Her lips, soft and moist and hungry, caressed mine, tugging and retreating simultaneously. It was the culmination of weeks of longing and wondering and wanting. It didn't matter that she was my new boss' daughter, that I was on duty, that I was trying to piece my life back together. All I knew was Bella.

My left hand snaked behind her neck and tangled in her loose brown waves, drawing her closer. She let out a pleased little whimper and slid her knees underneath her so she could lean over the center console, pushing her upper body against mine. I wrapped my other arm around her, my large hands running over her back and shoulders. She smelled so fucking good, like nothing I'd ever experienced.

The kiss was quickly escalating from tentative to ravenous as our lips devoured each other. I could feel myself straining against the front of my pants, harder than I had ever been in my entire fucking life. A long groan fell from my mouth as her perky little breasts pushed against my chest. My self-control was taking a serious beating right now.

As much as my body was screaming for me to let this go where it wanted to, I had to stop this before something happened that one of us would regret. I gently shifted my hands to her shoulders and steadied her movements. Her eyes blinked open as her lips left mine. "We have to…slow this down," I whispered painfully. "I'm on duty and you're off-limits to me for so many reasons, and if somebody sees us I'd lose my fucking balls."

"Right," she breathed heavily, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were bee-stung and swollen from the heated kisses. She retreated reluctantly back to her side of the car. "Please tell me, though, that there's more where that came from," she murmured dreamily.

I adjusted myself unapologetically, still reeling from the sheer intensity of our connection. I wanted to say yes – I hadn't felt this alive in a long time. But I couldn't afford to be reckless. Not anymore. "We'll see," I finally relented. "I want this, Bella. You don't even understand how much. I just need to be careful." She was a bright patch, a welcome interruption in the droning white noise that was my life now. I was too selfish to let that go so easily, despite the consequences.

"I guess I should go, then." Lightning-fast, before I could react, she leaned over and gave me a chaste peck on the lips. She pulled the door handle on her side and was out of the car while I sat there, a little stunned. Through my open window she shot me a mischievous smile and my heart dropped into my stomach. This girl would be the death of me. And I would go down with a smile on my face, sick fuck that I was.

I heard the prehistoric engine of her truck flare up and it rumbled away, bouncing as the ancient suspension navigated the uneven ground of the clearing.

When Bella pulled away I let out a breath I had no idea I'd been holding. A rush of emotions hit me like a tidal wave – anxiety. Exhilaration. Fear. Elation. Dread, for knowing that I had crossed a line. But if I was really honest with myself, it had been crossed a long time before today. Several weeks ago, in fact, when I had begun falling for Bella.

The first droplets of the impending thunderstorm pattered innocently down on my windshield. I hurriedly rolled up my windows and watched as a few drops turned into many, and before a minute passed the roar became deafening. So much that I couldn't hear myself think. And for that, I was infinitely relieved.

After a night spent restless and frustrated, I hauled myself out of bed at eight and did my best to behave like nothing had changed. I made coffee. I went for a four-mile run around the relatively quiet neighborhood. I changed my oil. But I couldn't shake the feeling that my secrets were written all over my face for the world to see – and judge.

When I came back inside a little before lunchtime, sticky with sweat and motor oil, my encounter with Bella was no further from my mind and neither was my decision on how to proceed. I decided it was time to call Jasper.

Jasper Whitlock, along with Emmett and I, had graduated the Seattle Police Academy in 2005. We had become fast friends as we moved out on the field, and he was easily my closest buddy. Where Emmett was loud, brash and outgoing, Jasper was more understated and reserved. And, as it turned out, a great advice-giver. I had been calling on him more and more since…well, since I had left Seattle.

He picked up on the second ring. "Cullen. How the hell are ya?" The faint twang of a Southern accent still tinged his voice. It was something Emmett never failed to harp on him for.

I smiled despite my near-breakdown mood. "I'm…alive," I answered honestly. I began pacing around the living room, phone cradled between my ear and shoulder.

"Mmhmm. You sound like it," he murmured dryly. "What's going on?"

"Jesus. Fuck. I don't know. I think I really screwed myself this time." I proceeded to fill him in on things with Bella, and how her father would probably blow a gasket if he ever caught wind of it. I mentioned, quietly, almost to myself, how this was the first time I'd actually been able to dwell on something other than…it.

When I finished my tale, Jasper was silent for a few seconds. "Wow. Dug yourself into a deep one there, my friend."

"Yeah. No shit."

He let out a long breath. "So, it seems to me like you got two choices to make. The first is, do you really, actually like this girl? And I don't mean 'do you want to bang her.' I'm asking if you genuinely care about her. Because if you don't, then you gotta cut things off now. She doesn't sound like the type who'll go running to Daddy looking for him to shoot your balls off, but even if she was, you have to be the bigger person and put a stop to whatever's going on before it gets too far out of control."

I knew before Jasper even finished speaking that that wasn't the case here. "And…what if I do? Care about her, I mean. Hypothetically speaking."

"Well, then you gotta do things the right way. Take her out. Get to know her when you're both not under her dad's nose. Don't go announcing to anyone that you're hanging out or dating or whatever, but give it an honest try. If she's as amazing as you say she is, she deserves that much."

I took all of this in. "Do you think I should…tell her?"

"Yeah, I do. When, though, is a different story. She'll find out sooner or later but you might want to find out if you even enjoy each other's company enough to let it get that far. Up to you, though. I don't think she'll run, if that's what you're asking."

He was right, like usual. A rush of confidence poured into me, and I felt purposeful and excited. "Right. Thanks, man. I'll–"

"Hold up there a minute. I didn't say I was done," Jasper cut in insistently. "The second thing you need to ask yourself, Edward, is what's so bad about you not torturing yourself for something you can't change. What happened, happened. You didn't pull the trigger. And every day that you waste believing that you did is just gonna be one more day that you can't get back."

As quickly as the elation puffed me up, I deflated just as fast. Jasper and I had had this conversation before. He was the only one I allowed to even breach the topic, and at some point even he was met with the same brick wall that I threw up. I just wasn't ready to tear my skeletons from the closet and make peace with them the way he was suggesting. "Thanks, Jas. I'll talk to you later." My voice had a harder edge to it. It was my way of saying case closed.

He sighed. "Later, man."

When I clocked in that day at just past five for an evening shift, Jim Crowley was announcing to everyone that his annual Fourth of July cookout later that week was still on. "Even if it rains cats and dogs," he added.

Charlie clapped a hand on my shoulder as he made his way out the door. "That means you, too, Edward. You're part of the crew. Even if they are a bunch of dumbbells." He gave me a curt smile and swept out the front door, followed by two older officers. Oh, to work day shifts like normal people. Even in Seattle I had whacked-out hours that had me working and sleeping at the weirdest times possible. Try making yourself go to bed at noon and getting up for work at nine PM. Maybe if I was sleeping off a bender from the night before, but definitely not nowadays.

I ducked into the locker room and changed into my uniform. I was supposed to spend the first half of my shift at the station and second half on road patrol. Mike Newton was also on my shift and we'd switch around nine.

When I emerged from the locker room, the place had mostly cleared out. Mike was outside, checking the oil in his patrol car before he left. The only one left inside was Bella. She glanced up at me and smiled, all sorts of unsaid things written on her lips. I nearly keeled over. I wanted her so badly – it was like every molecule in my body was being pulled to her by some invisible force. I was going to do this the right way, though, and keep my volatile hormones in check.

One glance out of the plate-glass doors ensured that Mike was still engrossed in his examination of the oil levels, and I crossed the floor to Bella's side. "Hi," I said, my voice huskier and lower than I expected.

"Hi," she replied shyly, her hands still occupied with the pile of papers she was stuffing into a manila envelope.

I was going to be smooth. I was going to find some entertaining and original thing to say that would make her laugh and insert a perfectly natural segue into what her plans were for tomorrow night. I was going to give her a charming smile so irresistible that a "yes" would fall effortlessly from her lips.

I did not do any of those things.

What happened instead was a mortifying combination of barking and coughing and spitting, and somewhere in that mess the words, "Do you want to go eat something?" tumbled from my mouth. It was like someone shot my lips full of Novacain and turned me loose to make an ass of myself in the world.

She blinked once, twice, giving me a peculiar look that one might have when being spoken to by someone who has frequent psychotic breaks. Apparently she did understand me, miraculously, because she replied wryly, "Why? Did you want to try your hand at envelope stuffing?" She was a cruel, cruel woman, and I adored her even more for it.

I huffed a little, and made another go at communicating like a sane adult. "Uh, not right now. What I meant was…would you want to go out with me? Like, on a date? There could be food involved, if you wanted. That you could eat." Well…if I wanted proof that I wasn't missing large chunks of brain matter, that definitely wasn't it.

The smile that curved her lips was sweet and I rejoiced a little inside. "I'd like that. And I'll be sure to bring my appetite." I caught a mischievous glint in her luminous brown eyes. She loved watching me squirm. "When?"

"How's tomorrow night? Seven okay?"

"Seven it is."

"Okay. Great. Um, it's probably not a good idea for me to pick you up, so…do you want to come to my place? I was thinking that I'd cook."

Bella brightened, clearly pleased at this revelation. "You cook?" She placed her hand over her heart and my eyes followed, her fingers resting just shy of the swell of her breast. My throat closed up a little. "Who told you that the way to my heart was through my stomach?"

Just her stomach? I thought to myself curiously. "Yeah. I'm actually half-decent in the kitchen. You like Ramen, right? I'm kidding," I reassured her when she gave me an incredulous glare.

"And now that you've piqued my concern, would you like me to bring anything? I'm-I'm not old enough to get wine or anything," she stammered a little. "I can make a dessert if you'd like."

"Just bring yourself. I got everything else covered." I rested my hand close enough to hers for our fingertips to touch. "Look, Bella, I don't know where this thing between you and me is going, or what's going to happen in the future, but I'm tired of trying so hard to stay away from you. I want to do this the right way so even if all this falls down on my head, which it very well might, at least we'll both know that I did as right by you as I could."

Bella frowned at this, and I knew I was being cryptic, but I just couldn't explain to her how much deeper this was than it looked. She didn't know this, of course, and the dismay on her face was obvious. "Edward, can we just…talk about this mysterious 'it' for a minute? Yes, I do agree with you that it's not a great idea to make out on my dad's desk while he's sitting at it. Yes, since technically we work together we should probably keep our hands out of each other's pants just on principle. But please, can you just tell me why you have this doom-and-gloom attitude about us? About everything, come to think of it? You act like you're on death's door or something." She finished her rant, the tension in her body seeming to drain out, and then her brow furrowed with worry. "You're not, are you? Dying? Do you have cancer?"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at her genuine concern. "No. I do not have cancer or any other terminal disease that I am aware of."

"Oh." The relief on her face made me smile. She was so endearing in so many ways. "Well, that's…good. But you still haven't answered my question."

I let my hand creep up further on the desk until my fingers had curled over hers. "I know. And you're right. And I promise that I will tell you anything you want to know." I meant it. She had a right to know exactly what brand of train wreck I was before diving into whatever it was that we had. "After dinner tomorrow." I lifted our entwined fingers to my lips and kissed hers gently, lingering on each one. Her eyes stayed glued to mine and I swore I could feel her pulse quicken, just a little. Being near her and not being able to touch her was apparently sweet torture for us both.

"Okay," she replied in a dazed voice.

Finally lowering her hand back down to her side, I shrugged and added, "Of course, you might find me so insufferable that you decide you don't want anything further to do with me." I gave her a crooked smile.

"I might," she agreed. "Good thing that's my decision."

Yes, it was. I hoped by agreeing to bare myself to her I wasn't making it for her.

* * *

**Love it? Hate it? I'm dying to know :) Next time we get to see what exactly is making Edward into Broodward. Until next time, folks...**


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